


Niceness Before Knives

by ReluctantlyAndraste, Shartan



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Anders Positive, Anger Management, BAMF Josephine, Cullen critical, Eventual Character Death, F/F, F/M, Fade Nonsense, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, JUST TALK TO EACH OTHER, Mage Revolution, Mage Rights, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Multiple Inquisitors, Romance, Slow Burn, Templar critical, elias hears what she wants to hear, fuck the chantry, seriously fuck the fade okay, solas u shady af, y u lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4895065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReluctantlyAndraste/pseuds/ReluctantlyAndraste, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shartan/pseuds/Shartan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Two complete fucking disasters use friendship and snide humor to save Thedas from the smaller one's Sad Boyfriend."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here there be spoilers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In their defense, it wasn't like it started out any better than it middled.

 

Prologue -  _Six months after the explosion at the Conclave_

 

* * *

 

“Listen up, Dread Wolf,” Elias began dangerously.

Solas tried and failed to keep his face impassive; the sound of his own pulse roared in his ears until he could barely think. He brought magic just under the surface of his skin- the first in a series of spells to erase the woman’s memory if he could, and escape if he must. He focused on regaining control of his own body and expressions, trying not to give the Herald any hold while he scrambled to find a denial.

“There are exactly three people in this world who know who and what you really are,” Elias said in the same soft, clipped voice, moving on before Solas could even open his mouth. He suspected that at another time Elias would have greatly enjoyed stunning him into silence. “One is probably off wandering around somewhere turning into a dragon. One is me. And the other is your girlfriend that you profess to love, who we just dumped in the Fade. You caused all this, and now you’re going to undo it.”

That was not technically true, but no force in Thedas could have made Solas admit that to her. How much did she know? And for how long had she known it? Perhaps the bulk of his plan was still salvageable. 

“Seriously . . . ?“ Solas began icily, but Elias cut him off.

“If you stand there and deny it, if you really intend to look me in the eye after everything that’s happened, after Adamant and Haven and Corypheus and _this_ ,” Elias held up her left hand for emphasis, which spat glowing green light throughout the room. “If you stand there and deny all of this, after you left Shadow Lavellan in the Fade to die when you told her you loved her, I swear by all my gods and yours I will break every bone in your face.”

Whatever response he had expected Elias to have over the loss of her best and oldest friend, this was clearly not it. Losing her companion had obviously unhinged her; the Herald had never spoken to him, or indeed anyone, this way before that he could recall. His compassionate, cautious friend had been replaced with an unrecognizable, vicious adversary that barked orders and somehow knew his most guarded secret.

“You have no idea how I feel about her,” Solas spat, much more loudly than he’d intended, “and I seem to recall I was not the only one who left her in the Fade to save themselves.”

Solas got the distinct impression that his “compassionate, cautious” friend had restrained herself from throwing half his library at his head with every bit of self-control she possessed.

“BEING DRAGGED BODILY FROM THE FADE BY THREE BURLY MEN, ONE OF WHOM I SUCCEEDED IN LIGHTING ON FIRE, DOES NOT EQUAL LEAVING OF MY OWN VOLITION!” Elias shouted, so loudly that he was surprised no one came to check on them. “AND BESIDES THAT, LOST ANY ANCIENT ARTIFACTS IN YOUR FRIEND’S BODY PARTS RECENTLY?”

She barreled on quickly, before he could work his way into a distraction or a rebuttal.

“So here’s how this is going to go, _Dread Wolf,_ ” Elias repeated with emphasis, as if daring him to try and correct her again. “We’re going to gather whatever supplies we need: lyrium, artifacts, anything you suggest, and we’re going back for her. You can pretend you don’t know how to do that for as long as you’d like. But I’m going to wait exactly 24 hours, and then I’m going to start opening rifts and poking around in them.”

Solas' eyes widened in dismay before he could stop them; he could tell from the satisfied look on Elias' face that this had been the reaction she was expecting.

“I figured we’d start here, in Skyhold,” she continued, gesturing over their heads at the castle in which they were standing. “This place is very old, isn’t it? Elven maybe?”

Solas bit back what he wanted to say about Elias’ ignorance as he looked for something- anything- useful to utter to dissuade such a disastrous plan. He shifted his weight but remained silent, and the knowing look returned to Elias' face, his feet betraying him while he focused on his mouth.

“No need even to travel, really,” she said, a chipper fragility belying the incredible danger of her proposition, “we could test my theories here—“

Elias, the compassionate woman who he’d never seen refuse a request for help, would never do that. He had a foothold.

“I do not believe you would intentionally endanger your own forces simply to test me,” Solas interrupted in a facsimile of his Humble Apostate voice.  

The look Elias gave him was one of pure venom. “Watch me,” she whispered.

“And if that fails?” Solas challenged, heat entering his voice. “If that fails, what will you do then?”

“Well,” Elias began with a smirk. “I thought I’d try Kirkwall.”

“And after that?” he asked again. “When Skyhold and Kirkwall yield you no results? When half the world has been swallowed in your foolish quest, will it be enough?”

“Then I’ll try Nevarra!” Elias thundered, knocking the papers from his desk and slamming her fists into the wood for emphasis. “And then Tevinter, elven ruins, the eluvians! I’ll find Mythal in her Wilds and we’ll have this conversation again if we have to, because it’s _never going to be enough_! So either help me retrieve the woman you claim to love or get the fuck out of my Inquisition.”

Solas studied her face for what felt like an eternity, and at the end of it, he could not say whether or not she was bluffing. One thing was certain: he could not leave the Inquisition until he had his orb, or was certain it had been destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes from Author Andraste:
> 
> This scene occurs roughly six months from the start of the game - Author Shartan and I wanted to give potential readers a decent taste of what our fic was going to be like, and the general direction it was heading in.
> 
> As of now we're trying to update every 7-10 days on average. Please be patient with us; real life occasionally intercedes!
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave a comment or point out any lore issues we might have missed. We PROFOUNDLY thank you all for your continued interest in our story.


	2. The Loudest Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elias is unconscious. Shadow yells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More edits happened.

 

 

This was not supposed to happen.

Solas hadn't really expected his plan to go off smoothly. He might have hoped, because he couldn't seem to get rid of his tendency to try and see the best of a situation. But in truth, he did know better.

So when a blast shook the tavern in which he waited, and he rushed outside with the others to see the Breach with his own eyes, he was simply resigned. This setback might be his last, but it was just one more in a long chain of failures from which he could not seem to recover.

He needed to see the blast site up close, and discover what had happened and the status of his orb. If it had indeed been unlocked, perhaps something might yet be salvaged from the wreckage of his plans.

Or, he thought, watching the small military force that had been assembled to keep the peace between the mages and the Templars, he could run. There might be months or even years before the Breach took over; pockets of safety in the world he could seek out. If he was anything, he was resourceful. He might well manage to outlive all of these people.

The horror of it shook him back into action. Even an ignominious death by the hands of human soldiers was better than that.

He surrendered himself and his weapon, making sure to do it within earshot of the small huddle of people left in charge. There was enough panic that any hint of answer, delivered with humble calm, was more than enough to get him access.

At the second pocket of demons on the way to view the site, his weapon was returned.

At the third, his guard died and wasn't replaced.

Merely reaching the site of the blast killed over half of those that made the journey. Many of the soldiers were painful green, and even those that weren't had little experience dealing with demons. Solas himself mostly survived by constant shields, scavenging healing potions from the dead, and simply attempting to draw as little attention from the newly-mad creatures as he could manage.

The primary rift, at the base of the Breach, was smaller than he had expected. It dangled over the ground like a deadly jewel, light shifting in its facets.

There were no other mages left living to try anything, so Solas didn't have to volunteer himself. He tried everything he could think of, manipulating forces in ways no one had in a thousand years.

The rift was deaf to him.

Worse, his orb was nowhere to be found in the wreckage.

Solas was counting his options, and deciding how best to track down his orb and try again to seal the breach, somehow, when the rift sputtered like a green flame on which oil had been dropped. He and everyone assembled readied their weapons, having seen activity in the other rifts shortly to a wave of demons.

But what popped out was, he thought, very unlikely to be a demon, though perhaps it was still something out of a nightmare.

A human woman, unconscious, with what could only be the key to his orb flickering on her hand.

And an elf with Vallaslin, whose angry modern accent marked her as one of the Dalish, standing over her friend and bristling at the assembled forces like a cat standing up to a dog. From where he stood, Solas could just make her out—dark hair and ghost-white skin, her clothing torn in several places, feet planted firmly ready to defend herself or her human companion.

Solas was surprised that she would go to the trouble—it was well known the Dalish loathed humans. Perhaps the human woman had something she needed; perhaps she was the only one who could corroborate the Dalish elf’s story as to how and why they had survived the explosion.

And whatever story she chose to weave, it would certainly require corroboration—the two small women were already surrounded by a dozen soldiers, at least.

* * *

 

Chapter Two: The Loudest Voice

 

* * *

 

The two women only fell ten feet, but the thump was onto hard stone. Elias was unresponsive even when Shadow pinched her sharply. The sight filled her with panic, even though Shadow should have known to expect it. Elias was breathing, barely, but her body shivered, and her hand sparked in a new and troubling way. 

 Shadow felt her heart thudding like the echoes of a too-loud bass: whole-body pulses that made her eyesight and hearing fade in and out with each beat. Trying to breathe deeply and evenly didn’t help: the air was filled with dust and fumes and smells that were too disturbing to contemplate too deeply. As Shadow attempted to blink her eyes into submission, she realized that the ruins of the temple were already crawling with Leliana’s scouts, though none had approached the area near the rift yet. 

Despite the fall, and the way the rift had twisted and half-sealed itself as they passed through it, their arrival had been nearly silent: as the scouts slowly, one by one began to notice the new arrivals, Shadow forced her mind to go through what happened in canon. The next thing that would happen is that they would take them as prisoners. Lock them in the cold, dank, dungeons below the chantry that had once been the site of unspeakable tortures and were probably even now rife with demons waiting to torture any sleeping mind that came too close. They would argue and yell even as Elias lay there half-dead. Did they have a real healer, or just an apothecary to offer potions as Solas attempted to keep Elias from dying? Would they force Elias to wear manacles even as she lay on a hard cot in a cold cell half-dead? 

It was certainly what was supposed to happen in canon. Elias was probably expecting it to happen. Elias would probably not even complain about it, Shadow realized. That was what made up Shadow’s mind to try something that was certainly stupid and unlikely to work. 

Still. In the absence of clear leadership, sometimes the loudest voice rose to the top. And what did she have to lose, really? Failure would put her in chains in a dungeon, but so would not trying at all.

Shadow took a deep breath. Having to repeat herself would ruin the effect, after all. 

“We need a healer! Now!” Shadow shouted, as loudly and clearly and commandingly as she could. As she saw that people were, indeed, paying attention to her, she took another breath and continued, in what she hoped was a carrying volume. “And a mage. TELL me you have someone who knows SOMETHING about the fade.”

Rather than a verbal answer, the scouts drew their weapons. Huh. Possibly opening with demands was not going to work. Maybe she had mis-calculated how well they would react to… damn. She’d forgotten she was a Dalish Elf. With a staff strapped to her back. Right. Wait. What had happened to the staff? 

Well, time for a different tactic: see if she could turn their instincts against them. If they were determined to be opposed to her… Shadow sighed to herself, and drew out the small knife nestled in the small of her back, then held it against Elias’ unconscious throat. Above them, the dormant tear in the fabric of reality seemed to thrum in anticipation. 

Shadow wasn’t sure if it worked. Arrows didn’t rain down, nor did the archers lower their weapons entirely. Instead, some people continued to aim at Shadow, but others changed their angle higher or lower. 

A woman stalked out of the gloom, stepping forward with hands raised to indicate she was unarmed. Leliana. Shadow was pretty sure that Leliana was still very much armed, and that she could move fast enough that it didn’t particularly matter that her hands were *currently* empty. Still. It was a better gesture than actively holding weapons at the ready. “What are you doing?” Leliana asked.

Shadow was not actually sure what she was doing. She’d only really read about psychology, after all- in real life, she didn’t generally have an interest in manipulating people she liked, and she simply didn’t interact with anyone she didn’t care for. Still, saying ‘It seemed like a good idea a few moments ago, and I try to listen to my instincts’ seemed like a poor succession to her opening gambits. 

 _Take charge of the situation_ , Shadow coached herself. _Weave a narrative. You have plenty of information, after all. All you have to do is play it correctly._

“This mark on my friend’s hand?” Shadow said, more softly now that she had the spymaster’s full attention. “It’s special. But it’s also killing her.” 

“Special how? How do you know?” Leliana said.

 _Ah. She’s following your lead_ , Shadow noted. _Keep going. Don’t fuck this up._  

Shadow gestured with her empty hand toward the closed rift above them. “It’s a key. Opens and closes rifts. She got it when-“ Shadow paused, as a splitting headache suddenly overwhelmed her senses. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. Is this a migraine? This isn’t a migraine. What the fuck?_.

“With the breach,” Leliana continued for her. Shadow spared a moment to be thankful the bard seemed to be playing along. Likely, of course, to trip her up… “Did that happen when you blew up the conclave?”

“Ha,” Shadow said humorlessly. She’d predicted correctly. “That’s hilarious, and adorable, and So. Very. Wrong.” Shadow’s lungs spasmed slightly, and she suppressed a coughing fit. _Not the time, lungs,_ Shadow thought menacingly. “Magic mind shit, I think, can’t-“ she broke off as the headache grew worse. Was she having some sort of aneurism? Could mind magic do that? Was it a side effect of going through the fade so roughly? _Focus on what you were going for, woman,_ Shadow reminded herself. “Fuck. Um. We need a healer. For her hand, and maybe more. There were- things. In the fade. Might have hurt things.” 

The cough broke through, and Shadow tried and failed to hold onto her dignity as her body attempted to kill her with spasms of rib-bruising coughs. _Oh, magnificently worded. This is sure to get them to not treat the two of you like shit,_ Shadow thought at herself scathingly. Leliana did not draw closer, but instead watched Shadow carefully with narrowed eyes.

“How do you know this?” 

 _Make them think it’s Andraste!_ Shadow urged herself. 

“A woman, in the fade,” Shadow said, making herself breathe in a carefully controlled rhythm, willing her lungs to behave long enough to get through this moment. “I don’t…” The pain threatened to descend. She shook her head slightly. “Not important. The thing is that we need a healer. And another fucking mage, because I can tell you what’s wrong, but I really can’t fix it. Or at least, certainly not like this.” 

“Not like- what’s wrong with you?” 

“Me? A surprising amount,” Shadow said. It was her stock answer, but it was certainly applicable here as well. “…but right now, I’m too damn tired to do anything fiddly. Did I mention we were in the fucking fade? With demons? I’ve been fighting for a long time. Please tell me you have more people.” 

“We do-“ Leliana broke off, looking uncertain, and looked at another woman who moved up. Cassandra, Shadow realized.  

“You killed the Divine,” Cassandra stated, stepping closer. Shadow realized with surprise that Cassandra was holding a sword. To her throat. 

Shadow made her body stand up slowly and put her knife in her pocket, looking Cassandra in the eyes. Shadow hated looking people in the eyes, but she knew too well that looking away at this point would be taken as proof of guilt. “A: That’s not the kind of thing I would do. Unlike the Templars, I’m pretty big on not killing innocent people and non-combatants. B: Fuck you for suggesting that. C: It doesn’t matter either way, because we need to close the enormous tear in reality above our heads. LITERALLY ABOVE OUR HEADS.” Shadow let Cassandra’s gaze shift to the breach swirling above them and then back to her tiny Dalish body, making sure her expression was somewhere between ‘resting bitch face’ and ‘determined’. “So feel free to kill us, but that doesn’t change the truth.” 

“And what is- ‘the truth’?” Cassandra asked, doubt warring with disgust to take control of her expression. 

Shadow felt a grim smirk form on one side of her face, and couldn’t make herself stop it. She was going to quote Varric, and the void take anyone that tried to stop her. “You need us, Seeker. Unless, I suppose, anybody else has been tossed out of the fade recently?”

“And how do we know anything you’re saying is the truth?” Cassandra demanded. 

Shadow shrugged. “Follow your instincts. I can’t prove anything until we get Elias back on her feet. If you like, I can swear by the creators, for all that they can’t hear me.”

“You’re not even Andrastian,” Cassandra said. One more mark against her.

Shadow fought back a sarcastic quip about slowness and facial tattoos. “Neither was Shartan, to begin with. Does the Maker care what I believe? Will it change his actions?” 

“We can argue this back at Haven,” Leliana said firmly. “For now, we should make sure the prisoner is stable for transport.” Shadow took a small private moment to admire the way Leliana had phrased it: inclusive language, while still basically getting her own way. Calling Elias a prisoner, even as she insisted on her care. 

“Agreed,” Cassandra said, then looked at Shadow. “I imagine the chantry cells will inspire truth, if nothing else.” She sheathed her sword, then, and nodded to Leliana. 

“Are you fucking daft?” Shadow bit out, mouth moving even as her mind screamed at her to shut up before Cassandra turned the sword back on her. “You can’t put Elias in the cells! We have no idea what that thing is doing to her body! And you want to add the damp, and probable demonic echoes to it? You can post as many guards as you like to watch her dying and unconscious body, but we will be in a fucking tent or a fucking house. That is, if you want to actually close the damn breach, and not just watch the world burn.”

Cassandra stared at Shadow as if doing so would reveal more than her words had. Shadow forced herself to keep her mouth shut before she started tearing apart Cassandra’s entire existence. That was unlikely to help the situation at all. 

“Solas,” Leliana called in the resulting silence, more statement than request, making a gesture to someone. Shadow did not startle when she realized that Solas, Hobo Apostate Elf Extraordinaire, had been watching the whole performance, and that even a careful scanning of her audience had not revealed him. She was far too tired to startle from anything less than a demon, and even then it was half-and-half.  

Shadow spared Cassandra another glance, evaluating the woman back, before kneeling quickly and rolling up Elias’ sleeve to give Solas more access. “It was weird in the fade, but it’s somehow gotten worse since we got back. Spreading. I’m pretty sure it’s melded to her soul, if that’s even a thing, since it won’t come off. But…“ 

“It’s killing her,” Solas finished. 

“I was going to say, I’m pretty sure we can confine it to her hand, actually,” Shadow said, a hint of snark somehow escaping even through her fatigue. “We didn’t poke at it because we thought we should get more opinions.”

“We?” Solas asked, looking up as though it took great effort to tear his gaze away from the anchor. Perhaps it did. 

“Let’s talk while we walk,” Shadow said, looking up at Leliana. “You’ll heal her, yes?” 

“Yes,” Leliana said, an odd, evaluating expression on her face. Leliana looked at Cassandra then, who nodded, and picked Elias up as if she was a small child.  

Shadow would have laughed if she hadn’t been worried sick. It was one thing to be told one was dying in a video game. It was quite another thing entirely to see her best friend unconscious and dying after several hours of fighting through demons in the raw fade.

“You spoke with your friend about the mark?” Solas asked. 

Shadow stood, and began following Cassandra. “The thing that fucked with us? What’s it called. Operative? Um. Procedural. We have procedural memories intact. The other kind was taken, the kind where you remember specific events.” 

“How do you-“ Solas began. 

“I assume we tested it, but it hurts very much to try and remember,” Shadow said, not waiting for him to accidentally work an insult into his question. She tried, and failed, not to be insulted by his tone of voice. “Anyway, I should say the things before they are gone. So. The mark wasn’t so bad in the fade. I don’t think it’s opening and closing that little rift that caused it; I think it’s the breach. It seems synced. Which makes sense, considering when she got it. So, there’s that.” 

“Do you remember how she got the mark?” Leliana asked.

Shadow shook her head. “No. Procedural memory is stored differently than. What’s it called. The other kind. But I can tell you that it’s not an injury causing the memory loss. It was an event, or a person. We wouldn’t have tested it if it was an injury; and I suspect that being able to test it means we may be able to restore it later. Or not.”

“Why do you believe the mark to be a key?” Solas asked.

“Key is a simplification,” Shadow said. “It’s like a doorknob. Or a boat. It carried me through, as well. My understanding of the fade is that it’s not a physical barrier, right? But changing the way something exists. So a person can’t come through the fade normally, and spirits usually get broken when they try. But we obviously went through and came back. So, a boat. Transporting us safely.” 

“Can it do anything else?” Leliana asked. 

“Mending holes in the fabric of reality isn’t enough?” Shadow asked lightly. “Anyway, I’m mostly just making observations and educated guesses here. Short of the Maker himself, or Fen’Harel, or whoever Tevinter thinks made the veil, coming down and explaining to us what in the Void is going on? I’m going to be glad we have a shimmer of a chance to undo whatever the fuck went on.”

“But why embed it in a person?” Leliana asked as they approached a small, walled village. Shadow had lost sight of Elias, unable to keep up with Cassandra’s pace as exhaustion caught up in her.

“The gods have a seriously fucked sense of humor,” Shadow replied. “Or, possibly, a shard of some in-between substance caught on Elias when everything went boom, and this is a weird side-effect. If it is somehow a piece of the veil made manifest, then it’s probably force of will and sympathetic connection that lets her-“  

Shadow broke off as Cassandra disappeared into a small wooden building, and darted between the mostly-human scouts to see Cassandra setting Elias on a bed. The layout of the small town was slightly different than the way it was portrayed in the video game, but Shadow assumed this was the same hut that the Herald would wake up in later; it had a similar layout. Shadow knelt by the cold fireplace and let a sliver of fire escape her heart- just enough to ignite the embers, but not enough to burn down the hut. Behind her, Cassandra barked for someone to fetch the apothecary.

Shadow turned around suddenly. “Tell me you have an actual, real healer,” she said slowly.

“I assure you, Adan is quite competent,” Cassandra said stiffly. 

“I’m pretty sure I heard you say ‘apothecary’. I know the world is in dire straits, but surely you have at least one mage healer?” 

Cassandra’s face was stone. Shadow took that as a no. 

“Solas!” Shadow barked. “You’re a mage?” 

The scout in the door stepped aside slightly to allow Solas passage. “I am, yes.” 

“Two things. One, start fucking working on containing that mark to her hand. Two, please tell me you know healing magic.”

Solas pulled a wooden chair over to the side of the bed and began examining the mark more closely. “I admit,” he said after a moment, “I have not spent time exploring that particular specialty.” 

“Specialty,” Shadow scoffed. “You’d think it was common sense that was the rare gift, and not magic. Alright then. Here’s what we’re going to do.” She looked up at Cassandra, who looked caught between relief at being around someone who was willing to give orders, and irritation at being given orders by a stranger. “You’re going to get me a staff, a bedroll or cot, and some broth-based soup. Solas is going to come up with some ideas on how to fix the mark on her hand. I’m going to try to sleep enough to get some strength back, and then I’m going to help heal her. Sound like a plan?” 

Leliana nodded. Cassandra’s expression darkened.

“You cannot be serious about giving the prisoner a staff,” Cassandra objected.

“What, you don’t think you can take me?” Shadow said, looking in Cassandra’s eyes, making an effort not to flinch and look away. “I need my staff to heal my friend. I need to heal my friend so that she can wake, walk, and heal the rift before the world is overrun with demons.”

“How do I know you won’t just run?” 

“Where would I go?” Shadow asked simply. 

“Back to your clan!” Cassandra erupted, “Leaving your human ‘friend’ to take the blame!”

Shadow stood up, suddenly feeling very dangerous. “How dare you,” she said lowly. “I would die for her. And even if I wouldn’t,” Shadow said, fighting to keep from attacking the woman who towered over her by a full head and had magical dampening abilities she knew nothing about, “The breach is going to destroy the entire world. You may be stupid enough to think that’s something that can be outrun, but I certainly am not.” 

“You- have a point,” Cassandra said slowly. “Very well. I will bring you a staff. However, you will not leave this room.” 

“Do you need lyrium?” Leliana asked. 

“No. That shit’s fucking weird. No. Also! If you absolutely must post templars around as part of some chantry-fed idiocy, you will keep them out of my immediate sight. I’ve had a very difficult day, and I don’t need any more problems. Questions?” 

“Only about the mark,” Solas said. Cassandra and Shadow rolled their eyes in unison, realized they were now in the sisterhood of scoffing women, and blinked. Then Cassandra huffed, and left, closing the door behind them. 

Shadow sat at the head of the bed and adjusted Elias’ sleeping position so the airway was less blocked. She cleared her throat. “Do you actually not know any healing, or do you just not want to be conscripted into healing people for them?” she asked.

“Is that relevant?” he said shortly, poking at the mark with some sort of magic that fluttered around his fingers.

“Very,” she said. “What do you know, then?”

“A great deal about the fade,” he replied. “Not, apparently, as much as I would like. I never imagined…”  

“Is the energy causing problems because it’s trying to open a tiny door to the fade and that’s ripping apart her flesh, or is it not- is it-“ she paused as the words refused to come. “Is it out of tune. Sync. Um, when things don’t resonate.” 

“Not compatible,” Solas said after a moment. “That may be the case.” He stroked at the mark, which made it flare up oddly and then die down.  

“I thought that might be the case- I tried just putting up a shield, to protect it from the rest of her body, but it seemed to hum through. So. My assumption is that we’d have to somehow tune into the frequency of the mark, and then adjust that. Move that. Or, I’m assuming that it’s easier to re-tune the inanimate object than the person.” 

“It- may be-“ Solas said. The mark flared and spluttered lightly on its own.  

“We probably don’t have to make it perfect,” Shadow said after a moment. “If we can get her conscious again-“ 

“She could close the rift at the base of the breach and stabilize it,” Solas said, a touch of animation entering his voice.

“And then that might solve some of the other problems. At the very least, slow it down.”

“Getting her back on her feet may be easier said than done, however,” Solas warned. 

“Oh, she might surprise you,” Shadow said. “She’s got an odd lucky streak. I’m less concerned with ‘if’ we can, and more concerned about ‘how long’ it will take. I’m going to take a wild, wild guess and say that the tear at the breach isn’t the only one.” 

“Correct. There are hundreds of rifts, probably all over Thedas,” Solas said, poking at the mark with a different color of magic. The mark retreated, and then glowed, and then went back to the way it had been. 

“But if we stabilize the original one, then others will stop forming.”

“Yes. Most likely.”

The door opened again, and a staff and sleeping roll entered, carried by a woman who would be considered small even for an elf. Shadow thanked her, set down the roll, and put an ice rune on the inside of the door. 

“Why did you - you do realize these people are here to protect you?” Solas asked.

Shadow laughed, an unamused barking noise. “That’s why it’s an ice rune, and not fire. Feel free to replace it with something else. I just escaped the fucking fade; I’ll probably be a little jumpy next time I wake up. Forgive me for not wanting to set the house on fire when I get startled by someone in armor waking me up, yeah?”

 

* * *

 

It turned out that “the mark is killing her” was not an overstatement. 

Shadow sat for a while observing Solas and Elias, and then eventually lay down, staff in one hand while the other tucked under her head, subtly touching the edge of her ear.  

Sleep came with great difficulty to Shadow, despite attempts to use self-hypnosis and breathing exercises to induce it; every time her mind started to try and wander, to file things away properly, she began to once again see the things Nightmare had produced for her, with too-many legs and skittering squeals. Her waking-world phobia of arthropods in any form didn’t allow her to do anything but panic when she saw the imprints wander over her mind’s eye. A few times she did fall asleep enough to have nightmares of crawling things, black with too many eyes, moving unnaturally toward her. Sometimes a woman, glowing, helped guide her; sometimes she simply twitched awake, a shield over herself before she realized she was no longer in the fade.  

Shadow found herself thinking more than she properly wanted to. She could remember remnants of what happened in the fade- or more properly, she remembered that things had happened, if not the events themselves. As soon as it was even a possibility that it was real, 

When they were still in the fade, Elias and Shadow had begun making plans for the future: assigning names to their different plots from other fandoms, making backup plans and backup plans for their backup plans. Their first mistake had already happened: Neither of them had thought about what to do while Elias recovered from the fade, and Shadow sat waiting for her to recover. They had discussed what to tell their companions of who they really were and where they were really from (nothing, and nothing); they had discussed whether to take the mountain path or charge with the soldiers; they had discussed who to save in Orlais, and whether Haven should be the stage of their confrontation with Corypheus. Shadow didn’t remember making the plans, but she did remember what they were; they were stored safely alongside memories of playing the video game, and looking up correspondences to get through a nightmare run.

And Shadow had, in one swift moment of panic, begun unraveling them, because even though she knew- knew!- that Elias would survive her body being torn apart, seeing Elias on the ground barely-alive and surrounded by people holding up weapons had broken every bit of Slytherin guile Shadow possessed. And she had panicked, and she had opened her mouth, and words had poured out like blood. How many things would this change? How many people were going to die because she had failed?

And beyond that: in the fade, when they thought it was still part of a spirit journey, it had seemed absolutely natural that she be an elf. Why shouldn’t she be in the shape of an avatar she had spent hundreds of hours with? If Elias had formed an impression of Thedas in her mind, then if Shadow was journeying with her of course she would be the way she thought herself in that world. If it had been a different game, she would have seen herself as a different avatar.

But this was absolutely not a spirit journey, and her body was absolutely not the way it normally was. Her ears were positively enormous, almost the size of her hands. They were no more sensitive than her regular ears, as far as she could tell. Her body was thinner, and the lack of padding showed on her hips and sides; she had to slightly adjust every angle to put less pressure on her bones. For the first time in fifteen years she was shorter than Elias.  She hadn’t felt her face since the fade, but she imagined she would feel the same thing: the bridge of her nose was larger, and the pressure on her sinuses had completely disappeared. Her lungs had spasmed as if from asthma in the temple, but her eyes showed no sign of tiring even without glasses. More than that: they adjusted to the difference between light and dark remarkably fast, and picked up details and variances in color that she had had to strain for in her other body. 

Normally her muscles and bones would ache from the slightest exertion, but here even after hours upon hours of fighting- twirling and stomping and stabbing her staff in progressively more effective patterns to kill and delay demons in the fade- she felt only a slight soreness. Even in elementary school she had felt only dull exhaustion and lingering pain after exercise. Here, after a short time simply not fighting, she had gained back some of what she had lost. She had only ever heard other people describe this experience- resting, and being rested.

There were no shooting pains up her arms from carpal tunnel; no tingling or numbness in her fingers. There were no weird stabs down her legs from nerves being compressed; her back felt absolutely normal and fine, with no trace of the pain and oddness her slipped disk normally caused. There was no thudding humming pressure in her ears. Even her hips, usually screaming after more than an hour of walking, only slightly whispered a mild complaint that the bedroll could be more evenly padded.

Being physically comfortable for the first time in well over a decade was unsettlingly bizarre.

 After the third time startling awake and casting a shield on herself (already, it was reflex), Shadow sat up and checked on Solas’ progress.

She immediately berated herself for not looking sooner: the mark was literally tearing holes in Elias’ arm, snaking up the sides in cracks that seemed to pour hidden corners of the universe through them. 

“Fenhedis, Solas!” Shadow snapped, scrambling up. “You might have mentioned the lack of structural integrity of her BODY.”

Solas shook his head and leaned away enough for Shadow to get her hands in and heal some of the physical damage. It was difficult: the flesh did not want to get knitted together, only to get torn apart again. It was as if there was a pressure from another side, wandering around the edges of what physics would normally permit.  

“You needed your strength,” Solas said simply, no trace of affect in his voice.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Shadow realized, sitting on the side of the bed. She noticed she couldn’t feel her face. Or her feet. Really, everything was a bit far away.

“Can it be removed?” a voice asked. 

It seemed Shadow had recovered enough to startle. Cassandra had traded places with Leliana, but where Leliana had been a waiting shadow, Cassandra was a lingering, lurching, lurking flame. 

“Not by any means I possess,” Solas said, “If, indeed, at all. Shadow was correct that it had attached itself to the woman’s spirit.”

The mark flickered as if in agreement. Shadow tried not to retch at the new opening in the flesh it had made for itself, a jagged tear from her thumb to her elbow. Blood and pus oozed out, and then back in, as if unsure which was the correct direction. A moment later Elias began to twitch, and then her whole body spasmed. Shadow’s mind recognized the seizure in one corner even as another tried to find something- anything- that she was supposed to do. Hold the person down so they don’t hurt themselves? She remembered in the first-aid course, when they discussed whether a person with a seizure could bite off their tongue and choke on the blood, but she couldn’t remember whether she was supposed to stick something between the teeth or let it be.  

Then Shadow felt her body moving forward, trying to restrain Elias’ limbs as they spasmed against the walls and the hard wooden edges of the bed. She got bruised for her troubles, the woman’s unknowing body moving out of her grasp. Was she simply this weak, or was she weakened from the fighting? 

“Cassandra!” Shadow cried, remembering the woman’s strength. “I need your help!”

 “How- how can I possibly help?” Cassandra asked. 

“Two things!” Shadow said. “First, I need you to help me hold her down. I’m too weak to do it- she’s having a seizure, and she could break bones- I don’t-“ Shadow stopped speaking as Cassandra traded places with her.

Cassandra’s heavy, well-trained, armored body took the impact much better. After a few moments Elias stopped moving so much, the body-shaking movements reducing to twitches, and then nothing.

“And the second thing?” Cassandra said.

“Pray,” Shadow said seriously. 

“Pray!” Cassandra scoffed. “If prayer could help-“

“We don’t have time to argue,” Shadow snapped. “You are an extremely faithful woman. All seekers are. Your prayer may attract a spirit of faith, who may see fit to bless Solas or I or Elias with health or mana.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened. “I - I do not think that is how that works- I am no mage-“

“At the very least,” Shadow said, “it will help one of us, and it does little harm to try.” 

Solas re-emerged. “I believe I may have found a new direction to attempt to contain the mark,” he said.

Cassandra stood slowly. “You seem very unaffected by this,” she observed, staring at Solas. The flickering yellow-orange light the fire emitted emphasized their sharp angles: Solas’s darkened eyes and sharp cheekbones, ears standing out from his bare head as if they had opinions of their own; Cassandra’s fiery, intent gaze, glimmering armor, the dark space between her hand and her sword. “How do we know you aren’t simply letting her die on purpose? What could an elven apostate care about closing the breach? You could be playing us all for fools, laughing at us as we struggle to stay alive.”

Shadow ducked her head slightly as she literally stepped between them, so that whatever expression she had wouldn’t cause any problems. “Solas, tell us,” she pleaded, turning her body so she didn’t have to watch Elias ooze and bleed and twitch. She would think more clearly that way. Instead, she stared at the floor: wooden, shadows moving over the length in time with the firelight.

“I have been attempting to contain the mark to the original point of entry as much as possible,” he said. “However, that is simply not possible with the limited power I have, and the fluctuations of the breach echoing through the mark.”

“Speak clearly, apostate,” Cassandra ordered.

Shadow shot her a look, which Cassandra ignored in favor of glaring at Solas as if her eyes alone could force him to obey. 

Solas stood ramrod-straight in the face of Cassandra’s scrutiny. “Or perhaps, I should say,” he continued, “That it is not possible to do without killing her, which I am under the impression we all wish to avoid.” 

Shadow felt her face move, but it was still too numb for her to have any idea what the expression might be. “You said you had a new idea,” she said.

Solas looked reluctant, and then he had no expression again. “Until the breach is stabilized, there might be a - stop-gap of sorts. It would require-“ he paused again, and then resumed. “The problem is that the mark is incompatible with her spirit,” he said. “I can bring the mark more in alignment, but the process is likely to kill her, and we have little time before the breach expands enough to consume us.” He then looked at Shadow, and she had the feeling there was something like regret in his gaze. “If, however, there was also someone bringing her spirit more in alignment with the mark…” 

Shadow blinked. “Is that why I needed my strength?” she said. “I have no idea what is involved in- I literally have no idea how to change someone else’s spirit. And not while they’re asleep, definitely.” 

“It would be temporary,” he said, almost as much to himself as to Shadow. “And you need not do the actual… alignment. All you would need to do is hold onto it while I align the mark.”

“Ah,” Shadow said. She looked at Solas, then Cassandra, then Solas. Was this near to what happened in the canon!Thedas? Was this why Solas asked the Inquisitor if there had been any change to their spirit? “This is our only option, I take it.”

His small smile could never be mistaken for mirth.  

* * *

 


	3. Actual Video Game Character

 

 Chapter 3: Actual Video Game Character

* * *

 

 

Elias woke in a bed, with blankets over her body and a pillow under her head. Oddly, it was not her ceiling, but rather wooden slats held up by sturdy beams, with bundles of herbs hung upside down to dry.

 

“You’re awake,” A woman said. Elias looked up to see Actual Cassandra From The Video Game looking down at her.

 

“Probably?” Elias agreed. A part of her mind was struggling to come to terms with seeing an Actual Video Game Character. The other part of her mind was remembering that there were specific Plans that had been put in place, and noting that this scenario was in absolutely none of them.

 

Cassandra made a noise that Elias was hard-pressed to determine as agreement or just Confirmation Cassandra Heard Words. Elias sat up slowly- the room spun a little- and when a metal mug was shoved in her face took it with both hands. She noticed her right hand had a note tied to it.

 

She pulled it out and unfolded it. In Shadow’s nearly-legible hand it read,

 

* * *

 

Elias Trevelyn-

 

Fighting demons with pajama-elf and Varric. Put on some armor before heading out and make Cassandra give you a staff and healing potions. Drink a little warm broth. When C bitches tell her haste makes waste. You’ve got to use the mark to close the rift at the base of the breach, so come meet us on the road when you’re steady.

 

DO NOT PUT YOURSELF IN UNNECESSARY DANGER PLZ. 

 

WE DO NOT KNOW WHAT PERMANENT EFFECTS STRAINING YOURSELF MIGHT HAVE. (RASENGAN???)

 

YOU CAN BE GRYFF AFTER RIFT SEALED I PROMISE.

 

Dareth Shiral,

 

Shadow Lavellan

 

* * *

 

Huh, Elias thought. Shadow seemed to know her pretty well, honestly, because that had been about her reaction. Look down: enough armor. Staff? She’d find one somewhere. Potions? Not necessary. Broth? Who had time for that?

 

“Drink,” Cassandra ordered. Elias took a sip out of reflex, then went to set the cup down and go.

 

Cassandra sighed heavily as Elias tried to set down the cup. “You should drink that. It may not taste very good, but you shouldn’t go out there dehydrated.”

 

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that Shadow put you up to this,” Elias said.

 

“I may disagree with her… on a few things, but she does seem to be a competent healer, at least,” Cassandra said. 

 

Elias let out her breath slowly, suppressing her irritation. “Despite the impression Shadow may give to the contrary, I have yet to actually die from not drinking enough liquids, and if I have to pause in the middle of fighting to throw up I may, actually, die. So, I’m going to put on- this is the armor for me? grab a staff, and head out to fix things.”

 

 

* * *

The Breach didn’t get closed, because of course it didn’t. Elias stood in the doorway of her cabin in Haven, what was presumably days after she had passed out trying to seal the damn breach, and stared for a long moment, willing the tumultuous green monstrosity in the sky to still. It did not even seem to notice her. In her peripheral vision Elias realized that a crowd had gathered, in between the time the elven servant who’d woken her had left and the when she had managed to stand up and get to the door. Somewhere in the back of her mind Elias realized that these were actual people, who were actually looking at her, and what she was about to do wasn’t something anybody needed to witness.

 

Elias carefully stepped back inside, closed the door, and tried to ignore the wetness trickling down her cheeks. She knew she was being stupid; she hadn’t cried in three years, crying didn’t fix anything, and worst of all she should have known all along that the breach wouldn’t close. What had possessed her to think she could do it?

 

Elias quickly turned her head as the door opened and closed a moment later, and hastily wiped off her cheeks and under her eyes.

 

“Hey, uh, you okay there?” Shadow’s voice came over Elias’ shoulder.

 

Elias looked carefully out the window, willing her voice to be even. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… disappointed that the Breach didn’t close,” she said at last, turning back to face her audience.

 

Oh, it wasn’t just Shadow, but also Solas and Varric there to witness her loss of control. Excellent. That was everything she needed. The only thing that could possibly make this day better would be someone killing Anders (still, despite Chantry Jenga, her dearest love interest) in front of her.

 

“I, uh, I did try knocking,” Shadow started. “Um, a couple of times. Loudly.”

 

Elias shrugged, trying to pull some nonchalance into her expression. “It’s your room too. Why should you knock?”

 

“Uh. That hadn’t occurred to me. I kinda figured it was the Herald’s room?”

 

Elias made a very Cassandra-like noise in response.

 

Shadow didn’t say anything for a moment, choosing instead to add another log and a tiny fire rune to the fire. Elias watched dully as Shadow pulled a chair closer, but instead of sitting hovered next to it.

 

“Varric thought you might be in pain, from the mark,” Shadow started. “If that’s not it, we can-“

 

“It’s fine,” Elias said. It wasn’t really fair to punish them for her emotional outburst, after all.

 

Shadow sat down stiffly. “You, uh. You realize that not closing the Breach isn’t actually a personal failure, right?” Elias said nothing, so Shadow continued in a soft, if perhaps not gentle, voice. “That is to say, you, uh, you were never going to be able to close it. You knew that, right?”

 

“Well,” Elias said in a small voice, “No?”

 

“Alright,” Shadow said, and then paused. In a moment of unkindness, though to who she’d have been hard-pressed to admit, Elias assumed Shadow was figuring out a way to explain her complex thoughts to a simpleton such as herself. As if she was stupid. But then… perhaps she was? “Well, um, we seem to have established that you can close the smaller rifts on your own just fine? But that big one, um, with the explosion? Probably took a lot of power? Like, the kind of power that doesn’t just sit nicely below the skin?”

 

“I’m not an idiot,” Elias said sharply. “I understand how magic works.”

 

“Right,” Shadow said, and here Elias heard a touch of actual gentleness under the familiar exasperation. “I’m just not sure you understand how the reality of this world works.”

 

Elias sighed. “That is entirely possible.”

 

“You can’t save everyone,” Shadow said. “I mean, we’re gonna work and try and save a lot of them? But we’re not actually gods, or immortal, or time travelers, or super powerful?”

 

“Not helping,” Elias said.

 

Shadow took a moment. “Alright. I didn’t- okay. I didn’t realize you weren’t looking at this the same way I was, so let me explain the way I see it, alright?”

 

Elias decided that silence would lead to fewer cabins being destroyed by literal fire fights.

 

“So, the first good thing is that we DID manage to stabilize it for now, right?”

 

“Yes.” Elias said shortly, feeling pretty sure she had accidentally said ‘no’ instead.

 

“But there’s still a big-ass terrifying looking thing in the sky.”

 

“I’m waiting for the good part of this,” Elias said.

 

“I’m getting there. Patience,” Shadow said. “So, on the one hand, we have this big terrifying magic thing that needs a bunch of power. On the other, there are a bunch of people with power sitting tight waiting for the world to kill them.”

 

“Many problems. I’m aware,” Elias said.

 

“No. What I mean is-“

 

“You plan to use the upheaval to conscript the mages and give them legitimacy,” Solas said. 

 

“… Mage Revolution?” Elias said, slow realizations blossoming inside her. Plans she’d entirely forgotten about- causes she’d allowed to get entirely overlooked by the breach- began to reassert themselves.

 

“Mage Revolution,” Shadow confirmed, smiling. “If you had closed the breach, we’d have no leverage to use to help them."

 

“That’s… that’s actually a very good point,” Elias said, feeling some of the weight in her chest lift.

 

“Wait,” Varric said. Elias startled slightly; she’d forgotten him. “You were in the revolution?”

 

In the time it took Elias to try and decide whether to be diplomatic and vague about this or admit that she had been for the mage revolution ever since she’d made a mage character that was forced through a Harrowing, Shadow had opened her mouth.

 

“Anders is a personal hero of hers,” Shadow said conspiratorially.

 

“I wouldn’t go quite that far!” Elias heard herself saying. 

 

Shadow laughed. “What she means is, for the love of the Gods don’t tell Josephine,” she said.

 

Varric sighed. “Why do I suddenly feel the strongest sense of deja-vu?”

 

“Ugh. Speaking of which, we should probably, uh, distract Cassandra while Elias, ah, finishes waking up,” Shadow said, standing back up. “Solas, would you mind checking over the mark again? She might be able to give better feedback now that she’s, you know. Conscious.”

 

Solas looked at Elias, who nodded, before inclining his own head.

 

“Alright, Violet,” Varric said. “Lets go piss off the Seeker. I hope you like ducking, because I have the feeling we’re going to be doing a lot of that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

A few minutes later, Elias found her desperation replaced with despair of an entirely different sort as Solas explained the shenanigans that had gone on while she had been unconscious.

 

“She did WHAT?” Elias said. The sound echoed slightly against the bare wooden walls of the little cabin. 

 

Solas smiled faintly from his seat next to her bed, turning Elias’ hand slightly to view the mark from a different angle. “I admit, I was surprised to see someone threaten the Right Hand of the divine. Your friend must care for you a great deal.”

 

Elias used her free hand to facepalm. “I literally cannot even believe this is my life. I’m not sure if I want to thank her or kill her.” She paused. “Mostly kill, I think.”

 

“In her defense,” Solas began as the door opened and Shadow walked in.

 

“In whose defense?” Shadow asked, a bundle of potions clutched in her arms.

 

“Yours,” Solas said, releasing Elias’ marked hand, having presumably found no new cause for concern. “Your quick thinking may have saved your friend’s life.”

 

Shadow scoffed, setting the potions on the bedside table. “Might have saved her some aches and pains. Pretty sure you’re the one that kept the mark from eating her.”

 

“What’s this about you threatening people?” Elias asked.

 

“Um… something something, violence is wrong?” Shadow replied, trying to look innocent. It might have worked if Elias hadn’t known her. Or helped her practice the expression.

 

Elias sighed. “I cannot believe you threatened the right hand of the divine. The seeker. I cannot believe you waited until the one moment when I was physically incapable of interceding to literally pick a fight over my unconscious body.” 

 

Unspoken, but Elias was fairly sure understood: I cannot believe you so thoroughly risked the plans we spent literal hours forming and memorizing.

 

“I wasn’t picking a fight! I was posturing! Necessary!” Shadow said, echoing Solas in what Elias was pretty sure not in any way what Solas would have meant. Joking to defuse anger. Elias recognized it even as she recognized the reference.

 

Despite knowing that, Elias tried, and failed, to keep from laughing. “You’re going to be the death of me,” she said. She could already see the future unfolding: Shadow making more and more inappropriate references to things her companions had, themselves said, or were supposed to say. 

 

“It’s entirely possible I almost was,” Shadow said, levity leaving her voice. Elias looked confused, so Shadow elaborated. “I want to know why you have that,” she gestured to the mark, “and not me. I’m the one with shitty luck. This makes no sense.”

 

“Maybe your luck changed?” Elias said hopefully. “You know. Different climate?” That was to say: different dimension.

 

Shadow stared as pieces clicked in her mind. “That- that would be… Elias, I can’t believe I ever forget you’re a genius.” 

 

“Anyway,” Elias continued. No matter how many times Elias told Shadow how uncomfortable proclamations of her genius were, Shadow continued to do it. The best thing, really, was to ignore bad behavior. “Who else do I need to apologize to?”

 

Shadow pulled a face. “Um, should I make a list of everyone I talked to? Or maybe you should just… assume that it’s everyone? Yeah. Better just assume it’s everyone.”

 

Elias sighed, as much at the accuracy the the remark as the amount of work likely to be ahead of her.

 

“On the plus hand,” Shadow said, suddenly cheerful, “Excellent news! You’re being hailed as the Herald of Andraste.”

 

“No.” Elias said. “I don’t accept.”

 

Shadow grinned. “Too late! I already signed for it! You’re liable and everything!”

 

“Why can’t you be the Herald of Andraste? You’d probably find that hilarious.”

 

“Oh, it’s still pretty fucking hilarious from this angle,” Shadow said. “And, plus. This way I get to be your Elven Serving Maid.”

 

Solas bristled in the background. Elias and Shadow chose to ignore him. It was, after all, a reference to something he himself might one day say.

 

“No! Absolutely not,” Elias declared, slightly horrified at the idea of Shadow being her servant. She didn’t want any servants. At all. She searched for the title Shadow had insisted Solas should have used. “…Arcane Advisor. If you must.”

 

“But. But Elias,” Shadow protested. “If I’m an Elven Serving Maid, I can eavesdrop on the servants. We’ll get the best of both worlds.”

 

Echoes of Celene and Briala came over her mind, giving her existential shudders.  Elias felt her horror intensify. “Like anyone would ever believe it,” She said, keeping most of her distaste under wraps, reaching for a retort. Remembering how Solas had been foiled, or would be. “You don’t have the look.”

 

Shadow laughed. “Copious amounts of make-up?”

 

Elias shook her head. “You know very well that’s not what I meant.”

 

“Ah, well. It’d cover my freckles, too, and that’d be a travesty,” Shadow declared. “One freckle for every soul eaten, after all. How else will people know to fear me?”

 

“Is that an actual superstition?” Solas wondered.

 

Shadow turned to him as if she had forgotten he was in the room. Elias was pretty sure Shadow would never forget Solas was in the room. After a beat, Shadow’s grin grew wider. “That’s an awful lot of freckles there, chuckles. Got anything you’d like to share?”

 

“Oh, give the poor pajama-elf a break,” Elias said, remembering the Dalish story about the Dread Wolf eating souls. They were trying to befriend him, after all, not make him uncomfortable. At Shadow’s amused look, Elias continued. “He did just save my life, after all.”

 

“Oh! Such a magnanimous demi-goddess!” Shadow cooed at Elias. Elias frowned. Was this another reference? Likely a Solas reference, if so, but she couldn’t quite place it. Then she realized it was in reference to being the Herald of Andraste.

 

 “Well, then, Pajama-elf,” Shadow smiled, ignoring the new utter horror that came over Elias at being reminded of the Herald of Andraste fervor, in favor of the caution on Solas’ face, “I will pretend I didn’t see the obvious signs of your soul-eating habits, if you pretend you didn’t see mine. Deal?”

 

Fortunately, Elias thought she saw a glimmer of amusement beneath Solas’ polite mask. He probably thought he was the only one in on that particular joke. “I feel as if I don’t have much choice in the matter,” Solas said. 

 

Shadow winked. “You’re catching on fast, there.” She paused. “Speaking of. I probably haven’t permanently isolated Varric or Leliana. I think Leliana is amused by me. Varric seems to be fine with literally anybody that doesn’t kidnap him and try to get at Hawke, and… Hmm. I think I only talked with Solas about magic things? It’s entirely possible I threatened something. It’s all a bit of a blur.”

 

“The only person that threatened me was Cassandra,” Solas confirmed.

 

“Ah, well. That’s just how she shows affection,” Shadow assured him. “I can tell.”

 

“Shadow,” Elias said, a new fear on the horizon, “How often did you and Cassandra… show affection?”

 

Shadow gasped dramatically. “Why, Elias, you know very well I did nothing of the sort. I would never interfere with Cassandra and Varric.”

 

“Ugh. That combination makes my head hurt,” Elias said. “Just. Please don’t even joke about that.”

 

“But have you seen the way they look at each other? I swear Varric winked at her.”

 

“To piss her off!” Elias loudly retorted. 

 

Shadow grinned, as if at victory. Elias suppressed irritation, as she always did when Shadow went out of her way to bait her into losing her composure. Especially in front of people she was trying to befriend so they would maybe not destroy the world. “Rivalrymance,” Shadow proclaimed. “I’d start a betting pool, if I wasn’t pretty certain Varric’s the one that takes the bets.”

 

“So, you’re saying I do have to smooth things over with Varric,” Elias confirmed, resigned.

 

“Come, now,” Shadow said, as if in consolation. “I would never abuse your position as Herald of Andraste to get along with people.”

 

“That’s only because you have negative interest in getting along with people,” Elias noted.

 

“I’m Dalish,” Shadow protested, “I have a certain reputation to maintain.”

 

“I’m getting a headache,” Elias said.

 

“Psychosomatic,” Shadow diagnosed cheerfully. “Unclench your jaw and you’ll be fine!”

 

Elias was fairly sure she felt her jaw clench more.

 

“Plus, I’m pretty sure people want to listen to you make decisions and tell people what to do. Up and at them!” Shadow looked considerably too pleased about this.

 

“Can I just… not?” Elias wondered.

 

Shadow smiled sweetly at Solas. “Oh, dear resident fade expert, do you think Elias needs more bed rest?”

 

He raised his brows. “I think the resident magical healer would know more about that,” he demurred.

 

“Traiter,” Elias accused with an exaggerated frown. “Don’t I need to…” she paused, searching for a plausible reason she could further postpone talking to people.

 

“If you’re looking for excuses, I’d use ‘commune with the magical mark of unknown origin to bring my magical vibrations in sync with it’,” Shadow helpfully advised.

 

“…that just sounds like bullshit,” Elias said mildly. She was fairly 100% sure that if someone had said anything approaching anything about vibrations to Shadow in their previous life, Shadow would have given them an unholy lecture about New Age Bullshit and the many ways in which it Did Not Conform to Observed Patterns of Magic in Any Known Culture Including Non-Western Ones.

 

“It’s not!” Shadow said, indignant, as if unaware of her own beliefs. “The beauty of it is that it’s actually a quite valid paradigm to approach it! If the fade is just things on a different frequency, a warped semi-reality adjacent to ours, then naturally the mark is a mediator! So, you should meditate.”

 

“Not the meditating thing again,” Elias decided. She would decide later if Shadow had spouted off legitimate psycho-babble magical jargon, or if it was actual bullshit. Some of the keywords did sound like theories she had read about the nature of the fade. But right at that moment… “I’d rather face a bunch of infighting chantry zealots, honestly.”

 

“So you’re ready to play with the big kids!” Shadow said, triumphant, and utterly unaware of her own offensive statements. Which were piling up. Quickly. “I’m so glad I could help you feel better.”

 

Elias sighed, because that wasn’t exactly how she would have described it, and began buckling her boots onto her feet.

 

“Want me to walk you in?” Shadow offered. “Keep the shems from staring? I can try to stick out as much as possible. Maybe sing? I could probably get half of them distracted long enough for you to make it to the chantry.”

 

“What? No,” Elias laughed. “Wait. Actually… actually, would you walk up with me?”

 

Shadow tilted her head. In confusion, but not suspicion. Oh, sweet summer child. “Of course. But… why…?”

 

“You can do that thing where people stay away from you,” Elias said. She did not say her other thought, which was: and also do that thing where you talk, and I don’t have to. Elias felt a new, secondary, and wonderful Plot forming.

 

“Right!” Shadow grinned. “It’s all in the posture. You just have to stand up straight.”

 

Elias slouched a slightly different way.

 

“We can work on that later,” Shadow said.

 

Elias slouched normally again. 

 

* * *

 

 

After the doors of the chantry closed behind them, shutting out the people who had gathered to gawk or salute, Elias realized that she and Shadow were alone for the first time since they’d been in the raw fade together. They wouldn’t have time for any proper planning… but they needed to talk. Badly.

 

Shadow realized at the same time. She glanced around for eavesdroppers, and then stopped walking, pitching her voice low. “I’m really really sorry about the mess, I just sort of panicked, and things- did things. I’m not sure what happened,” she said, speaking quickly.

 

“Are you all right? Did something happen? Because I haven’t seen you like this since high school,” Elias said in much the same tone, if perhaps less panicked. “You have to have known I wasn’t in any danger, canonically.”

 

“I know! I realize that! I just! There were arrows and you were in a lot of pain. And now everybody looks at me! And tries to talk to me!” Shadow whimpered. “I can’t seem to make them stop, either, even if I’m really really rude. And Solas keeps talking to me, and I just know I’m going to slip up.”

 

Elias sighed. “We’ll deal with that when it comes to it. And you know you’re better at keeping secrets than me.”

 

“Yeah! When I’m not pretending-“ Shadow lowered her voice even further, “to be an ELF. There is no possible way I can keep this up forever. I already accidentally made Cullen’s tent blow up when he asked about my clan.”

 

“You- what? Next time you do that, could you do it with Cullen inside the tent? No, that's bad. But could you? No wait, that's bad. I mean. That’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, I fully approve of this, do anything you like to make Cullen as miserable as possible, that jackass, but when we were fighting the demons earlier I got the impression that you were pretty on top of the magic of this world? And, you know, just in general, you’re good at that stuff?”

 

“Solas keeps LOOKING AT ME,” Shadow squeaked. “And Cassandra keeps trying to talk to me. And Leliana I think might think I’m a bard? And I don’t know how to convince her that I just… I just get loud when I’m scared?”

 

“I guess we… just give it time? I mean, honestly, and I don’t mean any offense here, but you’re not exactly… badass. You’re tiny.”

 

“They don’t seem to care!” Shadow said, panic making her voice break slightly. “They think I’m both competent and terrifying! Why?!”

 

“Alright,” Elias said. “I’ll just… go into full damage control mode. People like me. I’ll just be… extra sparkling nice. We can do this.”

 

Privately, Elias was concerned. 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References ect:  
> "Pajama elf" is a reference to Solas, because fandom believes his town-wear looks like pajamas.  
> "Rasengan" is a technique from the Naruto series, where a powerful attack can be launched from the hands but causes damage.  
> "Gryff" is usually shorthand for "Gryffindor" and can mean someone is being reckless. Because there are no such things as Gryffindors in Thedas, Shadow uses "Gryff" because that could also mean "Gryffin", and those do exist in Thedas.  
> "Dareth Shiral" means something like "Safe Travels".   
> Shadow uses both their full names in the note to tell Elias that they 'are' those people in Thedas, so Elias knows who to pretend to be. Elias, of course, doesn't consciously notice any of this.  
> 'Chantry Jenga' refers to the time Anders blew up a Chantry.  
> Varric calls Shadow "Violet" as short for "Shrinking Violet" because Shadow is, apparently, not a shrinking Violet. It's a flower name, and the best I could come up with.  
> "I was posturing! Necessary!" is a reference to when Solas tells the Herald that posturing is necessary.   
> "On the plus hand" is a mixed metaphor intentionally. Shadow does that.  
> "Elven Serving Maid" is a reference to when Solas claims he is an Elven Serving Man at Halamshiral in-game.  
> "shems" is a derogatory term for humans.  
> "Sweet summer child" is a Game of Throne reference, referring to someone who is innocent.  
> *****************************  
> Beta'd by the lovely SgtElias and Azerial


	4. The marks on your face

At first, Shadow thought the lovely brunette human who wore all the armor was following her around because of some sort of crush. She thought it confirmed when she constantly caught the woman’s eyes on her, and even more so when, after casually making two circles around Haven proper with the woman carefully staying within line of sight, the brunette woman followed Shadow into the Tavern. Shadow decided to offer to buy her a beer, because that kind of dedication called for a reward. And, really, the whole ‘get Solas to not burn the world through the power of love’ was a terrible plan. Much better to just date an NPC.

The look of disgust on the human woman’s face when Shadow waved her over to sit next to her was, however, unmistakable.  

Shadow was embarrassed. She was also, however, furious at having been followed and then rejected. 

“So,” She said, approaching the woman with her drink in hand. “Am I imagining you following me around all afternoon, or is there some way I’ve managed to offend you without exchanging a single sentence?”

The woman frowned. “Commander Cullen asked me to keep an eye on you, if you must know,” she said plainly. Shadow noticed, with a feeling of increasing humiliation at her oversight, that the woman wore templar gear.

“Why?” Shadow asked.

Brunette Templar Chick shrugged. “He didn’t say exactly, but it _was_ right after you and Chancellor Roderick had that screaming match, which half of Haven heard and the other half heard about. You’re unstable. Standard precaution.”

Shadow blinked at Brunette Templar Chick, quickly drank the rest of her bad wine in one throat-scorching swallow, and then set the mug down with a clack that reverberated through the bar like a drum.

“Fuck you,” Shadow said clearly and loudly. “Fuck Cullen. And _fuck_ your standard precautions.”

Shadow stomped out of the bar, slamming the door behind her. She had an entire heartbeat of satisfaction before she realized that it was freezing cold, and now the templar assigned to her was angry. Angry templars were bad.. This time of night, Shadow was normally in her cabin or the chantry. Everyone knew that.

So, she should go somewhere else. Shadow’s feet moved to the closest door. Twenty feet of biting mountain air, one heavy door, and she had both warmth and safety.

“Among people who have doors, it is considered customary to knock before entering,” Solas said after a long moment looking up at Shadow disapprovingly over a book.

Shadow wasn’t sure how she could have forgotten that this was Solas’ cabin. 

“Right. Sorry. In my defense, there hasn’t been a single person who’s actually done that for me,” Shadow said. She was aware how waspish and pathetic she sounded as soon as the words were out, but the words _were_ out, and there were no reloads in Real!Thedas.

Solas sighed, and bookmarked his book. “That does seem to be the way humans treat us, yes,” he said. “What do you need from me?”

Shadow knew she should probably leave and find another hiding spot. “Uh. Actually, its more what I need from your cabin,” she said, hoping the expression on her face was more ‘nervous smile’ than ‘awkward and unattractive grimace’. “I was wondering if I could hide here for a little bit.”

“What are you hiding from?” Solas asked. 

“Well, mostly my own stupidity,” Shadow confessed.

Solas gave a sternly questioning look, but gestured for her to take a seat at the unoccupied chair by the fire.

Shadow latched the door and sat down. “Well, I, uh. I thought I had an overly-eager suitor. It, uh, happens,” she said. She looked at the fire, because admitting that one gets followed around by people who want in your pants but otherwise hate you sounds both vain and pathetic, and she knows what the look on his face will be. It’s always the same look, too: dismissive, slightly disgusted, and for some reason defensive, whether she’s talking to a man or woman. She shook her head and continued. 

“But, uh, it turns out that Cullen assigned me a babysitter. I may, uh, have made a small scene.”

Solas was silent for a long moment, and Shadow dared a glance.

“I heard,” Solas said plainly. Shadow couldn’t make out his expression in the firelight. There weren’t any obvious lines formed by extreme expressions; his mouth was closed, but not tensed in any way she could tell, and she couldn’t remember if his eyes were always that particular shape, or if they had tightened.

Shadow allowed herself a very deep sigh. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and this will all be some very bizarre dream,” she said. “Every time I think something is normal it turns into- something like this. Being stalked by a templar, and then rather than finding some way of talking them out of it, I make the situation worse. I’m just… I’m not used to…”

Solas didn’t say anything, which was nice. Shadow gathered her thoughts, and came up with a sentence. A real sentence that didn’t involve yelling, or swearing, or trying to spin some new crazy into something that wouldn’t get anybody hurt.

She swallowed. “I’m finding it hard that I can’t just walk away,” she said at last. “I’m surrounded by enemies and idiots.”

“Which am I?” Solas asked curiously.

Shadow huffed a short laugh. “You know, I can’t really tell,” she admitted.

“Really?” Solas asked. His eyes looked dark in the dim room. Charcoal-grey, with flecks of orange and ash where they reflected the firelight.

“Well, you haven’t run, which would be the smart move,” Shadow said with a teasing lilt.

“Where would I go?” Solas asked. “If we don’t stop the Breach, the entire world will be swallowed whole.”

Shadow knew that well. Even now, the bad!end at Redcliffe was as clear to her mind as her own home. And yet, in her runthough of the game, game!Solas had stayed. He had been caught, and fed red lyrium. He had died for a potential he had no way of knowing could come true. She’d never figured that out. Had his spies all simply died? Or had he stayed behind to gather information, knowing that as long as he could travel the fade in his sleep, he was never truly trapped?

And so she looked at him. “Haven’t you ever wondered,” she asked, “What would happen?”

“At the end of the world?”

“If the veil really did come down,” Shadow said. “Assuming we survive the process, and between you and me, I think the magic gives us a slight edge. Haven’t you wondered what the world would be like without it?”

Shadow recognized the expression on Solas’ face, and wished dearly she had a camera to capture the moment. This was _surprise_. It was only a moment, sure, but she’d been watching carefully. The way his eyes had widened so far it looked painful; the way his mouth had opened, and moved for a moment as if to say something though no words came out. 

“You’re thinking of Dalish legend,” Solas said slowly.

Shadow sat back, disappointed and relieved. “It’s only Dalish legend because nobody else remembers,” Shadow said. 

“Do you await the return of your gods?” Solas asked.

Shadow’s laughter was short, and loud. “No. I suspect that would end poorly for everyone,” she said.

“Why?” Solas asked. 

That was not a simple question to answer, if Shadow wanted to continue hiding her out-of-world knowledge.

“They were locked away in the middle of a war, if you recall,” Shadow said after a moment. “Probably a civil war. We’ve already got a civil war between the mages and the templars, and the world can’t handle it. Ancient elven deities who may or may not even be sane anymore? We might start hoping for another Blight, in comparison. And besides, I imagine there’s more than one safeguard in place. They probably won’t be set free simply by taking down the veil. Or at least, I hope so.”

“You hope…? You don’t want to see them again, even as you wear their marks on your face?”

“I believe in the espoused ideals of Dirthamen, as the stories tell them,” Shadow said carefully. It was true; she was very fond of both knowledge and secrets. “Not the guy himself. That would be impossible; I’ve never met him.” Also true: she was from a world where he was a fictional character, and worshipping blatantly fictional gods was generally considered bad practice where she came from.

Solas tilted his head. “So you would only believe in a god you had met?”

“Oh, I believe he _exists_ ,” Shadow said. “I also believe that it’s been several thousand years since anybody has spoken to the guy.” She paused, then. “I suppose that’s rather shocking, coming from a first,” she said.

“A little,” Solas admitted. “I’m not used to the Dalish being flexible in their beliefs.”

“I wonder in what context you’ve encountered them,” Shadow mused. She had often wondered that… and it was more diplomatic than screaming about cultural imperialism and the effect it had on indigenous populations. “At any rate… would you mind checking the window to see if my stalker is gone? I’d like to see if I can find my dignity. I’m sure I left it somewhere around here.”

Solas turned his head slightly and looked out the window. “Tall woman, wearing full armor while ostensibly off-duty?” he asked.

Shadow sunk her head between her knees. “Ugh. That’s the one. I wasn’t actually expecting her to be waiting for me. Again.”

“How long are you planning on hiding from her?”

“Well,” Shadow admitted, “Until you kick me out, probably.” She looked around the room. Anywhere, really, to look at something that wasn’t Solas.

In the corner, a lute. That was another question she had wondered… “Is that yours? The instrument,” Shadow asked.

“No, actually,” Solas said with a small self-depreciating laugh. “It seems it came with the hut. The previous owner, I assume, as nobody has come to claim it. Do you play?”

“More theory than practice,” Shadow admitted. She’d tried, but quickly found that her ears worked far better than her hands. Carpel Tunnel was capricious in the way it allowed her to learn a song one day, but not practice it for days or weeks after without sharp shooting pains. This body, though…

“Mind if I poke around at it?” Shadow asked impulsively. She amended that almost as soon as she’d said it, wincing. Looking harmless around Solas was one thing, but some people (such as herself) were actively annoyed by bad music… “It’s okay if you do mind, actually. I know that bothers people. It bothers me, actually, which is a thing. Like, I can hear that I sound bad? But not how to get better.”

Solas ignored the babble, and handed her the instrument.

Shadow darted forward, and took it from him. Reaching forward and picking it up didn’t strain her wrist. No line of fire at the awkward angle. Not a single movement that hurt, or set her off-balance.

It was exhilarating. And terrifying. And wonderful. Shadow tested the strings- no deformations or discolorations, so they were probably newish, but when she ran a finger across them gently they jangled horribly out of tune. Or at least, it wasn’t any tuning scheme she knew. Still.. Six strings, frets placed in what seemed to be the western scale she was used to… It didn’t take very long to tune the thing. If she ignored the materials it was made out of, and the overall shape, she could kind of pretend it was a guitar.

Which would be great, of course, if she knew much of anything about playing a guitar. Shadow knew three chords, and no songs, because of course the three chords she knew were not the same three chords in the common song progressions. She played the chords she did know carefully, aligning her fingers properly, pressing down firmly on the strings. It was uncomfortable; this body didn’t have the calluses in the same places on her hands her old one did. It didn’t sound good- the instrument had potential, maybe, but…

“You don’t know any songs?” Solas guessed.

Shadow kind of halfway knew a few. Or she had, once. It would probably take at least an hour of painful trial and error to remember without sheet music or tabs. “The theory’s useful,” she said instead. There was only so far she was willing to debase herself. “Has applications for magic. Resonance, alignment, repetition, pattern, counterpoint.”

“You’re less hands-on than most Dalish,” Solas noted.

“Less practical?” Shadow clarified. “Or do you mean, I actually think.”

“Is there a difference?” Solas asked. “Should I not be surprised to see a Dalish Elf that cares about something besides misconstruing the ancient past?”

“Ah, but you know the truth,” Shadow said, echoing the game’s line before she could keep from spitting the words through her teeth. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know some of it,” Solas said. “From my journeys in the fade. I could share it, if you like.”

The words were uttered without any leading inflections Shadow could make out, but taken at face value were almost like an apology. Shadow opened her mouth to accept it.

“Why me? Why now?” Shadow asked instead. “Of all the people you could have talked to. The things you know- you could write them. Publish them. Change thousands of lives.”

“ _You’re_ listening,” Solas said simply. “Who else would I tell? The Dalish clans who would mock the flat-ear, run him off for threatening their ideas of the world? The city elves, who would use stories of their immortal ancestors as an excuse to rebel, and have an end to what pitiable lives they still possess? You, at least, have _some_ sense.”

Shadow wondered what the stringed instrument would look like in pieces on the floor. Would it fall apart in one blow? Or would she have to hit it against the floor again and again, slowly driving apart the many small pieces so carefully glued and balanced in place?

“We should know our place, right?” She said instead, wondering how any words could be formed when her face was so numb.

“What would you do instead?” Solas asked. “Try to overthrow those above you, who hold everything? The money, the lands, the weapons, the very minds and hearts of most elves by virtue of Chantry indoctrination?”

“Always,” Shadow said without hesitation. “Every fucking time.”

“You really would, wouldn’t you?” Solas said. Shadow couldn’t tell if it was surprise or disgust she saw on his face, heard in his voice. “You’ll lose everything you care about. Everyone you know will be lost, if you do that.” And if disgust- for her? Or himself?

Shadow shrugged. “They already are, aren’t they? Or are Elias and I the only people who actually see the slow genocide the Chantry is perpetuating?”

“Elias, the woman who you have helped to raise up as a puppet of the Chantry?” Solas said.

“It’s great that you can see me getting along with the chantry hierarchy and assume that means I’m complicit. Did it not occur to you that there’s an opportunity to fracture it from within?”

Solas laughed. “You do realize Cassandra would have you hung for that,” he said. Deflecting, Shadow thought. She wondered why. Still. She hated arguing. She’d take a change in subject.

Shadow shrugged. “She’ll have to go through the Herald to get to me,” she said, because it was simple and obvious and gave away less than anything else she could think of. She’d already been talking too much.

“You really trust her that much?” Solas wondered.

Shadow realized she had been actually looking at his face for a long time, and looked down at the glorified lute she’d been holding awkwardly by the neck, rather than properly resting on her lap. 

“I think,” Shadow said carefully, “That some people are worth giving a chance.”

“Is she one of those people?” Solas asked.

Shadow looked back at him. Under his eyes, charcoal grey in the firelight, were deep circles. The man who loved the fade, unable to sleep.

“Elias is one of those people,” Shadow said, because it was important that he _know_ , “Who loves the world more than she’s capable of loving any one person. She’s like a hurricane of ideals. I happen to share those ideals. I think most empathic, rational people would, if they stopped and thought about it. Elias is one of those rare people who doesn’t usually have to stop and think about it first.”

“You have to stop and think about it?” Solas said, his voice still and neutral.

“I do little other _than_ think. And read, and ask obnoxious questions that make people uncomfortable,” Shadow scoffed. “Which turns out to be useful,  because Elias tends to act first and I have to explain later. Thus, an excellent team is formed.”

“I confess, you didn’t strike me as much of a bookworm when we first met,” Solas said.

Shadow felt a crooked grin on her face, one side forcing it’s way up through her efforts to stay neutral and calm. “You must be a terrible judge of people, then,” She said. 

“You haven’t asked me questions,” Solas pointed out. “Surely you’ve had opportunities.”

Shadow raised her brows at him in disbelief. “Solas, you’ve met me, right?”

He inclined his head in agreement, though not understanding.

“And in the days you’ve know me, have I proven to be a particularly… charming sort of companion? The sort that forms friendships easily, or does anything other than inspire death threats from complete strangers?”

“Only one complete stranger,” Solas said. “Though I admit that was surprising.”

“No offense, but…” Shadow paused, realizing that what she had been about to say would certainly have drawn offense. She filtered through a few phrases in her mind before coming on one that was better than the rest… though, if her history told her anything about herself, it was probably still offensive. “You’re the only person that knows anything about the mark on Elias’ hand. Who knows anything reliable about the fade, just in general. Basically, my best friend’s life is dependent on your good graces. Why on earth would I risk fucking that up?”

Well, Solas was indeed offended, if the look on his face was any indication. Indignant, irritated, slightly disgusted. Shadow could take a guess as to the reasons, if she had time to stop and think about it. Sadly, conversations didn’t exactly have pause buttons in real!Thedas.

“You were trying… not to anger me,” Solas confirmed, his voice tight like a string about to snap.

“Failed, I know,” Shadow said. “Sorry.”

“You really think I would hold the Herald’s life hostage because I took offense at something you said?”

“You’re a person, and people do that,” Shadow said. “I’ve seen crazier. I’ve seen crazier in the time that I've known you, even. Am I wrong, to fear that?”

“Yes!” Solas said. “I would never… Does _everyone_ think that about me?”

Shadow shrugged. “Depends how smart they are, I guess? Or how, um.”

“Paranoid?” Solas suggested.

“Politically savvy,” Shadow decided.

Solas shook his head. “You sound like you were raised at court, not a Dalish clan,” he said, as if that was something to deeply lament. “If I must say it: you can be assured that nothing you can say will make me withhold my help here. If the world ends, what happens to me? I do live in it, after all.”

“Elias probably doesn’t think that about you,” Shadow said. “If that’s any consolation.”

“Some,” Solas said. “I would generally prefer the people I have to work with not to hate and distrust me.”

“I _don’t_ hate you,” Shadow said. “Or distrust you, specifically. I just don’t _know_ you. Elias I’ve seen at several extremes in her life. I have a reasonable mental model of what she’ll do. But you? I know nothing about you. I _understand_ nothing about you. I’ve never had the opportunity to while away my life learning about the fade. What, beyond survival and curiosity motivates you? What do you fear, what do you hate? I know more about Varric than you, and that man lies about what day of the week it is half the time.”

“Is it a crime, then, to want my life to remain my own?” Solas asked.

“Oh, now you’re putting words into my mouth,” Shadow said, but there was no real heat in her voice. She knew the phase of argument she’d worked her way into: Either Solas was going to hate her forever, or he’d find a way of making it so that Shadow was wrong and a terrible person and she’d have to spend however long it took until her forgave or forgot proving that she could be good. Or, worse: he’d pretend she didn’t exist until he had decided she just wasn’t capable of anything better and allowed her back in his life like a wayward cat, too stupid to train and too sad to ignore.

Solas blinked. “You’re correct. I apologize. That was… uncalled for. You have good reason to mistrust those in positions of power over you.”

Shadow nodded her acceptance, too surprised to remember what people did on the receiving end of apologies, much less do any of those things. “Speaking of people in positions of power that I mistrust, is my guard lady gone?”

Solas stood to look out the window fully. “I cannot see her,” he said after a moment.

“Then I should probably let you have some peace,” Shadow said. “Thanks for hiding me.”

“Of course,” Solas said as Shadow slipped out the door. “Feel free to hide here from Templars any time.”

“I suspect you’ll come to regret that,” Shadow said, grinning through the cold night air.

She didn’t realize until she was stamping the snow off her feet in the hut she shared with Elias that she’d forgotten to let go of the lute. Staring at the small instrument she’d effectively stolen, she decided that talking to Solas was fine. Was nice, even. As long as she didn’t talk to him about sensitive subjects that might end up in embarrassing screaming matches. So. Nothing about the Dalish. Or cultural imperialism. Or, actually, anything elfy at all ever, because she’d eventually trip and fail. 

 

 


	5. Tactical Sincerity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a hole in the sky, and you want to do what?
> 
> Oh, I see. Yes, that does seem quite reasonable.

Solas watched, while pretending not to, the mild disagreement between Shadow and Elias. The two of them had taken to plotting on a rocky outpost overlooking much of Haven. The spot was a good one; they were able to see (and be seen by) most of Haven, without being overheard by even the most astute ears. 

 

But one did not need to hear a thing to surmise it.

 

And so he was not particularly surprised to watch Elias huff off (in what someone who had not been watching her acutely for the better part of a week would have interpreted as a relaxed, dignified stride). He was fully prepared to politely allow her to ignore him as she passed by, but then he was surprised when she slowed down to speak to him.

 

Even more surprised when she caught on to his joke and replied with one about griffins. Such a shame they were extinct; another magnificent thing lost to time, and his own mistakes.

 

He was surprised again when she asked his advice about her dreams, though perhaps judging from the conversation she’d had with her Dalish friend a moment ago, he shouldn’t have been.

 

“So, it’s probably some sort of side effect of the mark,” Elias was saying. Qualifying. She hadn’t quite yet explained the contents of her dream yet, but she seemed to have an idea it had been strange somehow, and he might look down on her. How odd. He really would have expected a human mage from the circles to look down on him, instead. Was her self-esteem really this low? Could it be that her confident voice was artificial, grown to disguise the truth?

 

“Possibly,” Solas allowed, forcing himself to speak instead of analyze. Eventually someone would notice if he continued staring.

 

Of course, there wasn’t much he could say on the matter. He hardly dared point out that as it was his magic in the orb, and he was himself a dreamer, it was probably some sort of magic contamination. Only time could tell how far it had spread, if it could ever be seen. Regretfully, it seemed that the only person Elias had been close to before the Breach was Shadow, and Shadow’s hero-worship probably precluded any sort of rational evaluation. Though, of course, that served his purposes well. If everyone was focused on the Herald, they would be looking at him less.

 

Elias looked at him, and for a moment Solas had the feeling that she knew exactly what he was thinking about the orb. “If I’m bothering you…” she began.

 

It was perfectly sincere. “No, no,” he said. “Apologies. It seems that the mark does more than I had theorized. Did you wish to speak of your dreams because they had disturbed you? There are methods one can use to mitigate the influence of unwanted spirits.”

 

Elias smiled. “Actually, sort of the opposite, if that makes any sense. I keep having this dream… I know it’s kind of crazy, but I get the feeling that it’s about a real place. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

 

“A real place?” That was common for him, of course, but he was a Dreamer. There was no telling whether that was happening to Elias, or whether the newly vivid quality of her dreams simply made it feel so.

 

“It’s a castle,” she said. “In my dream it was called- okay, it’s a silly name, and I know it’s probably just because of the Breach. But someone in my dream called it Skyhold. And I just…”

 

Elias paused momentarily at the look on Solas’ face, but he schooled his expression and she continued, as politely as a courtier. “I just get this feeling that it’s actually real. There was another word, and I’m sorry if I’m pronouncing it wrong, or if it’s not even a real word in Elvhen. Um, “Terasyl’an Tel’as”,” she said.

 

“The place where the sky is held back,” Solas translated, almost automatically. Why was this woman dreaming of that place? Of all places? Was this truly caused by the mark on her hand, and its relation to the breach? Or was this some great twist of irony, the sort he seemed to be fated to?

 

“Shadow said nobody talked like that,” Elias said. “And that she’d never heard of a ruin like that. And I thought, well, she’d know, wouldn’t she? Being Dalish. Only… I mean, you know a lot about ruins. So I thought, maybe…”

 

“It is, in fact, a real place,” Solas said. Elias’ face brightened, the look of a woman who had won an argument, or a bet. “But it is only a ruin,” he continued gently. “Occupied by nobody for perhaps centuries, sacked of anything valuable long ago.”

 

“It’s real, though,” Elias said carefully. 

 

Solas smiled slightly. “It seems the mark is giving you the ability to dream with more comprehension,” he said. What other secrets might she unknowingly ferret out? Well, he had to work with what he had. He didn’t have the strength to pull the mark from her- and without the mark, he didn’t have the time to regain his strength.

 

“Do you think- I mean- do you know where it is?” Elias asked.

 

Solas looked at her curiously. “I do, approximately. Though I’m surprised you wish to visit an old ruin, with the breach in the sky. Does the Chantry not have ideas for how you spend your time?”

 

Elias shrugged slightly. “They don’t seem to, actually. After sending out all those letters, they seem to be… mostly waiting. I thought, if I was having these dreams about this place… I mean, I’m not saying I think that I’m the Herald of Andraste or something. But it’s the first real… clue, I guess. And I like the name, especially the whole ‘holding back the sky’ thing, given the breach. Though it might have been more about dragons. Which were another dream I had, though Shadow said that was probably just symbolic.”

 

“Dreams can be full of symbolism,” Solas said. “It would be reasonable for the Dalish to see their dreams that way. However, if you have had one dream that turned out to be true, I think it might be prudent to give other dreams the benefit of the doubt.”

 

Elias looked thoughtful. “Would it be alright,” she said tentatively, with a hint of an apologetic smile softening her face, “if I asked you about other dreams? Don’t tell Shadow, but I think you’re probably the expert around here.” The last, Elias said in a joking, mock-conspiratorial tone that Solas did not mistake for a moment as not also being a genuine request.

 

“You are more than welcome,” Solas said. Deciding that being complementary toward Elias’ friend could be only helpful, he added, “And Shadow has done well, given her opportunities. Few would be able to interpret even the symbolism of dreams.”

 

Elias’ smile widened to something brighter than Solas had yet seen. So, he’d interpreted correctly; Elias was denigrating her friend as an offshoot of denigrating herself, rather than a truly low opinion. “You should tell her that,” Elias suggested. 

 

“I should?” Solas asked. Given what he knew of the Dalish, unnecessary contact seemed unwise. Sooner or later they were bound to clash over his inability to tolerate their mangling of history, and as he had little valid explanation for his knowledge, he would come across as overbearing and pompous. 

 

“She really looks up to you,” Elias said.

 

Solas replayed the words again in his mind before replying. “That was not the impression I had gathered,” he admitted.

 

“I think she said the words, ‘Or you could just ask Solas, the actual Fade Expert’, about seven times a little bit ago,” Elias said. “And I think she’s been scouring the books trying to figure out how you’re pulling off your spells. Something about learning from the fade being cheating?”

 

Solas found the corners of his mouth lifting quite beside himself. “I assume you’d rather I didn’t tell her you’d said that?” he asked conspiratorially.

 

Elias grinned back. “That would probably end poorly,” she admitted. “I think her stated plan is to ignore you in the hopes that you won’t notice her precisely when she makes a fool of herself. 

"Oh! That reminds me! Is that lute in my cabin yours?”

 

“Probably,” Solas said. “Or, more precisely, it was in the cabin assigned to me. I believe the previous owner is likely dead.”

 

Elias’ eyes sparkled. “Just so you know, I’m not returning it.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“You’re not seeing anyone, right?” Elias said.

 

Solas found himself quite unsure what expression he was making for about two and a half heartbeats. “I’m not sure I see the relevance,” he said flatly.

 

Elias nodded flatly. “Well, Shadow and I aren’t seeing each other. The rumors are convenient, and if I don’t have her in my cabin they’ll give her a tent, and I’d feel bad.”

 

Solas gave Elias as much of a flat look as he could. Why was she… was it because he and Shadow were both elves?

 

“I mean, if you don’t swing that way, that’s cool too,” Elias said.

 

Solas was fairly sure he didn’t want to be having this conversation. “Forgive me, but I barely know her,” he began. The words were plain enough, but he didn’t bother keeping a bit of bite out of his tone.

 

“Which is the problem,” Elias said. “The two of you are all avoiding each other. Completely unnecessary. And sure to be problematic when we actually go and check out Skyhold.”

 

“There are many other men, both elven and otherwise, if she wishes to find herself a-“

 

Elias’ eyes grew wide, and she took half a step backward, putting her hand literally on her heart. “Hey, I’m really sorry,” she said, the perfect tone of sincerity in her voice. “I don’t mean to be overstepping my bounds. I saw the way you were looking at her, maybe I misinterpreted! That was over the line.”

 

Solas’ cheeks did not color as he recalled the incident of which Elias was probably speaking. He had eyes, and the elven woman had a surprisingly flexible figure. 

 

“I was concerned for her safety,” he said. 

 

Something in his tone, or perhaps the wind-brushed redness of cheeks, seemed to relax the woman slightly. This was, while perhaps less than dignified, probably best for their continued interactions. It would not do to accidentally terrorize the Herald; the best-case scenario would really be to be a trusted, if perhaps slightly distant, advisor. 

 

“Rii-ight,” Elias agreed. There was nothing quite overt. It was, to someone who had not spent time with the Herald, bland agreement. He could not help but hear her lack of belief, however.

 

“There is no need for you to… arrange anything,” Solas clarified.

 

Elias shrugged. “Life is short,” she said.

 

“Are you not worried that she’ll be upset with you for sharing her confidences?” Solas deflected.

 

“I believe in your ability to keep secrets,” Elias said. 

 

Well, that was fair.

 

*************************************************************

 

Leliana decided that, despite the disagreement Elias and Shadow had publicly (if frustratingly silently, especially considering the way the Herald’s voice tended to carry) had, the two of them were not in danger of a rift in their friendship. Despite Elias not being reported as anywhere near the armorer’s hut, she wore a new pair of boots- with many times more straps and buckles than her last pair- and in a thicker leather than the ones originally ordered for Elias. The dark, shine-free color was practical and hard-wearing. Almost certainly ordered by the Dalish elf- the style wasn’t in fashion in Orlais, Ferelden, or the Free Marches, and would have required extra supplies to have made. Thus, it required a knowledge of Elias’ tastes, and a willingness to cater to them. Judging from the way Elias had unconsciously smoothed off a bit of dust from the buckles, a treasured gift. 

 

“And so I feel that we should really look into it,” Elias was saying.

 

Elias had been talking about a dream, while Leliana allowed a part of her mind to analyze shoes. A dream of a castle, to the north. Leliana knew better than to point out that Andraste herself had received prophetic dreams; Elias was skittish about her position as it was. 

 

“You said Solas confirmed that this is a real place?” Leliana asked.

 

“He did!” Elias said, just a hair shy of enthused. The word, perhaps, might be nervous, if one expressed nervousness with cheerful smiles and pleasantly flowing, clear-ringing voices. 

 

Leliana had the feeling that Elias did just that.

 

“I see. I suppose I can spare a few scouts,” Leliana said. Tested, perhaps, might be more accurate. The true Herald would likely-

 

“I really feel like I should be there personally,” Elias said. “Possibly with Solas and Shadow, in case there’s some kind of magic ward that needs dismantling.”

 

Leliana’s face rarely moved without permission anymore, and so it was that her face remained a mask, even as Elias continued acting exactly the way someone sent by the Maker would. Much the way, really, the Hero of Ferelden had.

 

And if this Elias bore more than a slight resemblance to Leliana’s old friend, from her countenance to her personality all the way down to the name?

 

Surely it was the Maker’s way of asking Leliana to pay close attention. 

 

*************************************************************

 

“There is a hole in the sky, and you want to investigate old ruins?” Cassandra grunted, between ground-shaking strikes at the reinforced training dummy. She knew that she was more imposing than graceful, but truthfully, it served her purpose most of the time.

 

“Yes,” Elias said simply.

 

Cassandra hit the dummy again, in a spot that on a man would be the solar plexus. In a spot that, on a person, would incapacitate them, if not send them completely reeling. 

 

If Elias interpreted Cassandra’s actions as overly aggressive, she didn’t say anything, or even particularly flinch. 

 

It was odd. Elias was perfectly polite, and yet seemed unafraid; her servant, Shadow, was teasing past the point of rudeness, and yet flinched whenever Cassandra came within striking distance. Usually partners who had fought by each other’s side for so long developed similar habits.

 

Perhaps it was caused by the differences in their training. Cassandra knew little of the Dalish, and Circles attempted to hide both the good and bad from her.

 

“Why?” Cassandra asked at last, as the dummy collapsed into slivers and sawdust, ending her training session.

 

Only the fact that Elias’ eyes lingered a moment too long on the splintering dummy, and the way her arms stiffened slightly as she forced herself not to take a step back, let Cassandra know that Elias had, in fact, been afraid, and had almost certainly been physically beaten as she grew in the circle. Cassandra filed it away in her mind to ask another time, if it became relevant. 

 

Elias did not square her shoulders as another would have done. She simply looked Cassandra in the eyes, with an expression that would have been a smile on someone else’s face, and that Cassandra recognized as the way Elias had been trained to speak. She had seen that expression time and again in the children of noble families- trained to look as pleasing as possible. She, herself, had been expected to be lovely and polite. She had simply been unable- unwilling- to live like that.

 

“Honestly?” Elias said, lowering her voice as if to not carry. Cassandra was certain her voice would still carry, but she would deal with those who were likely to have overheard after the conversation was over. “I think the people who attacked the conclave are still out there. I think they’re going to come after us, and I don’t think Haven is a good place to have a battle. I’m hoping we can put our people somewhere safer.”

 

It was the truth, without frills. Cassandra felt that there was more that Elias wasn’t saying, but what she had said was the truth. That was good enough for her.

 

“When do we leave?” Cassandra asked.

 

*************************************************************

 

“There’s a hole in the sky,” Varric said in disbelief, “And you want to go check out an old castle?”

 

Elias winced slightly. “Are you going to get mad if I point out that’s pretty much exactly what Cassandra said?” she asked.

 

Varric forced himself to be calm. He was going to have to work with that insane woman no matter what, if he was going to keep this poor Herald from getting herself killed like some kind of hero. And he’d seen the way she fought! It was going to be difficult work. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t go,” he equivocated. “I’m just saying that the timing could, possibly, be better.”

 

Elias looked relieved, somehow. As if she doubted that he’d go along on a fool mission? Well, to be fair, he did give the impression he had common sense. “I thought this might be a good time, actually,” she answered. “Sort of the calm before the political storm, since we haven’t actually heard back from all the people Leliana sent ravens to yet. Gives everyone a good excuse to put off my beheading.”

 

Varric reminded himself, for not the first time, that this was not his Elias. This was not a Hawke, tall and foolhardy and full of enough charisma to almost save the city. This was a woman from a circle, who sort of mildly resembled Hawke at times. 

 

“Solas says there won’t be any loot, but I’m hoping there will be,” Elias continued.

 

“Well, Chuckles knows a lot about ruins,” he said. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

 

“And yet I keep doing it,” Elias said. “You would think I would have learned by now.” 

 

Varric sighed internally. Elias resembled Hawke a lot, at all times. “Well, let me know when we’re heading off,” he said, instead of asking Elias if she happened to be related to the Champion of Kirkwall. There wasn’t really a good answer to that question- even if it was yes, the likelihood this Elias would live was very, very low. Hawke didn’t need to lose any more family.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There WILL BE Josephine/Elias romance down the line. Josephine hasn't arrived in Haven yet (IIRC she arrives after the Inquisition is formed and before the first War Table meeting- so that's how the timeline of this story is going to play out). 
> 
>  
> 
> Beta'd by the ever-tactful SgtElias.


	6. An Excellent Vacation

The day after Elias agreed to help found the Inquisition (which was also the day that had Shadow and Chancellor Roderick loudly explaining the ways they would have the other killed, and prompted Elias to return to her room and carefully ignore everything except the book on ‘Chantry Approved Spells, A Field Guide’ and ‘Spells Forbidden By The Chantry, a Brief Description’) she decided that if she didn’t go out and let ‘the faithful’ see her face, they were liable to track her down regardless eventually. After practicing her shiny new invisibility spell in the mirror a few times (yes, she was going to enjoy being in Thedas very much) to make sure it worked (she could only hold it for twenty-three seconds so far, but that was surely enough time to find a better hiding spot).

At some point, she very much wanted to investigate the weird mining tunnel she’d probably end up landing in after she fought Corypheus in a few months. Because while she would rather it didn’t happen, she didn’t want to take a chance that it was a Fixed Point In Time and not prepare ahead of time. With a medical kit, food, fresh (unbloodied) clothes, blankets, and flint and steel to start a fire and not get frostbite. More things, if she thought of them later.

So, Elias pulled on her boots and jacket (scavenged for her by Shadow) but left her staff behind for a jaunt in beautiful, snow-covered Haven.

The mountain air felt cool and refreshing on her skin; the snow in the familiar crunchy layers of harder and softer snow from days warming the snow and nights freezing it under her feet. Around her was the smell of campfires, and herbs being made into healing poultices and fumigating the clothes of new recruits, and meaty bubbly stews over the campfires, and sometimes someone who needed to think about bathing; and the sounds were as different to her world as night and day. Women reciting the chant (which she could really do without); spies murmuring in hushed voices to each other in corners and alcoves; Varric, loudly condemning some new policy of Cassandra’s that was, to make a direct quote, ‘Nugshit warmed twice over, covered with more nugshit for something different’.

Yes. This was going to be a fantastic day.

“Morning!” Elias said, drawing closer to where Varric warmed his hands by the fire, corked bottle of ink and a ragged journal on a sideways crate next to him. The poor soul who had been listening to Varric rant about Cassandra as he ate a cup of porridge looked very grateful someone else had come around. “I see you and Cassandra are getting along as well as ever,” she smiled. “Anything I can help with?”

“Technically, it’s afternoon,” Varric grinned up at her. “Glad to see you in the world of the living again.”

Elias affected an expression that said she had no idea what he was talking about. She would never put off getting out of bed. Or responsibilities. Or responsibilities that required getting out of bed. “I wanted to thank you for looking out for me the other day,” she said instead. “It meant a lot to-“

“Don’t thank me yet,” Varric said. “Thank me after you’ve gotten out of this whole mess.”

Elias blinked. That wasn’t at all what she’d expected him to open with. “Gotten out?” she repeated by way of asking. Perhaps she’d heard him wrong?

“Yeah. You should probably start running,” Varric said, his usually-smirking face a mask of seriousness. It made the scar on his nose stand out, and the circles under his eyes look deeper. “I can cover for you if you’d like, but walking away in broad daylight is your best bet. Red’s got the fewest guards posted on you for the next few hours, and they’ll think you’re just stretching your legs. If you climb around the checkpoints, you’ve got a twelve hour start on them, easy. More if you get your Dalish friend to run interference.”

“Uhhhhh,” Elias said slowly, the way she found herself doing when buying time for her mouth to find some tactful way of pointing out something that was completely and utterly and ridiculously incorrect to the point that she seriously wondered if her conversation partner was in the same reality she was in. “If I run, won’t the world be swallowed up by the breach?”

Varric shrugged, as if to look unconcerned, but the guilty way his shoulders tensed told Elias something else: Varric just didn’t want to see yet another innocent person die. After the mess in Kirkwall, she found she could hardly blame him. “Maybe. Maybe not. You’ve stabilized it, which is all we can really ask for. I’d offer to house you in Kirkwall, but I imagine you’ll want to stay out of places filled with demons for a while. If you need it, I can find places for you. Just say the word.”

Elias was pretty sure that if she asked Shadow, her friend would insist they at least think it over. Probably point out they could use the time to find a way back their own world- and that Kirkwall, Hellmouth that it was, was more likely a place than most. Elias had no intention of trying to shirk her responsibilities, however.

“Are… you leaving?” Elias asked, finding that she didn’t have to fake sad disappointment.

“I really, really should,” Varric sighed. He looked at Elias for a moment, and then away. Down. “I’m not going to, though. Especially if you’re staying. Can’t let a kid like you face this shit on your own, can I?”

Elias felt her heart swell. Varric liked her. Varric was staying. For. Her. Her best bro buddy was going to actually stay around and help her. She seriously considered hugging him, even past her ‘no touch’ policy. Still. That would set a very, very bad precedent. Especially with the whole ‘Herald’ nonsense that seemed to be happening. Maintaining the personal bubble was much more important than cementing bro status. Besides. She had no idea if Varric was a hugger, himself.

“That’s- thank you, Varric,” she said instead. “I appreciate that. I’ll feel a lot better having you around.”

Varric looked back up at Elias, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Seems like all the interesting things are going to be happening around here for a while, anyway,” Varric said. “You look like a girl with a plan.”

Elias found herself surprised again. Varric was more resilient than she gave him credit for. “The beginnings of one,” she admitted.

“Wanna share? I’ve got more than just Bianca here to help with, you know. And a prestigious writing career. You might not know it to look at me, but I’ve got connections all over Thedas,” Varric said.

Well. This could be all sorts of useful, Elias decided. Neither she nor Shadow had expected Varric to just… give his connections away like that. Elias grinned on the inside: Shadow was going to do that thing where she squealed in indignation when she found out. She was sure of it.

“Do you- do you know how to get in touch with Grand Enchanter Fiona?” Elias asked casually, trying not to sound over-eager. She thought she did a pretty good job of sounding more like ‘wants to get in touch with own faction’ than ‘wants to reshape the world’. Not that there was anything wrong with reshaping the world. It just tended to make people nervous when you laid it out flat like that.

Varric thought about it, surreptitiously glancing around to make sure that nobody was close enough to eavesdrop. “I think I can get a friend of a friend of a friend to get through. Are you going to run, or…?”

“I want to pull the mages in to help with the breach,” Elias said. Ha. Her, run? From danger? “Before anything else thinks to get at them.”

“You think whatever caused the Breach is still out there?” Varric asked, curiosity visibly piqued.

“Oh yeah,” Elias said readily. This part was easy, because it was very true. She loved when she didn’t have to lie. “And I don’t think it’s just one person, either. I want the mages pulled in before they can be used by anyone… and before they can be used against us.”

“Who would even do that, though?” Varric wondered. “They’re as explosive as raw lyrium at this point. Anybody with sense would stay as far away as possible, and anyone without sense wouldn’t be able to use them.”

“Well, Tevinter, for a start,” Elias said. She very carefully did not allow a manic grin to come over her face. Telling the truth might be hilarious, but she did want to retain some credibility. “Or factions that work for them.”

Varric looked at Elias for a moment, things visibly clunking into place in his mind. “Your friend Shadow said she thought a Tevinter Magister, or some sort of culty-superiority-complex group was behind the breach. You thinking that too?”

Elias shrugged casually. She’d need to keep an eye out for Shadow’s ‘we REALLY NEED TO TALK’ face, if Shadow was talking about this stuff too; Shadow would be upset if they weren’t keeping their stories straight. “Hadn’t talked about that with her yet, but yeah, I’d go with that as a forerunner. Besides the Qunari, they’re the ones with the most to gain by ruining the Conclave. And of the two, the ones most likely to be able to pull off weird magic shit.”

Varric pulled a face as he let that clink around his head, deciding that the pieces fit much better than he was really comfortable with. Varric wasn’t fond of the Qunari, but he was even less fond of Tevinter Mages, after what Danarius had pulled. Probably pulled. Elias made a note to make sure that’d actually happened.

“I’ve got friends with the mages,” Varric said a moment later. “They won’t like it, but I think I can get in touch with them soonish.” He paused, and got the same look Shadow did when she tried to come up with a tactful way of saying something. “You don’t mind people trying to kill you at a first meeting, right?”

Elias felt like laughing, so she did. Loudly. It felt like the air on her skin and the snow under her feet: freeing. Varric was the literal best. Best. Bro. Ever. And Ever. And even more time after that. “No, I kind of expect it at this point. Mage revolution, remember?”

Varric nodded, looking like he was preparing to pretend he hadn’t heard anything illegal. To his credit, the expression looked quite a bit like his regular storytelling bullshit face. “Yeah. I get that kind of vibe from you. Listen. Don’t mention this little chat to Leliana, alright? I think she’d be fine with it… after the fact. Before, she’d probably want to get her scouts in place to protect you, and that’d spook our people.”

“Soul of discretion,” Elias said. It made more sense to try and have Leliana get in touch with her contact separately, in case Varric’s didn’t pan out. Also, Elias decided, it would be better if Shadow explained to the spy what was going on. Elias had a feeling Shadow could put a more tactical spin on it, anyway; Elias was fairly sure her own explanation would begin and end along the lines of, ‘I thought it’d be cool if it worked’ or 'it felt like the right thing to do.' Unlike Varric, Leliana did not seem like the kind of person who would appreciate that. “It's okay if I tell Shadow, though, right?”

Varric laughed, though Elias thought it was at something that had happened earlier, rather than what she’d just said. She knew she could pull of a witticism from time to time, but she hadn’t been quite that funny. “Oh, yeah. That girl has secrets in her secrets. I think Leliana wants to dissect her.”

“Speaking of secrets,” Elias said with a small smile, “Did the things in your book really happen?”

“You read my book?” Varric looked like he’d just found an extra coin in one of his pockets, or had an enemy fall down before he had to hit it.

“Well, I couldn’t really get a copy of it,” Elias admitted. That was technically true; the Tales of the Champion hadn’t exactly been a real book in her homeworld. “But I’ve heard a few things…”

Varric shook his head, and pulled a new-ish copy of his book out of the crate, unpopping the cork on his inkwell to write an autograph, slipping a piece of blotting paper in there, and then looking at Elias.

“I’m all for talking about what happened,” Varric said. “But you have to read the book first, or I’m just repeating the same material over and over.”

“I- you just autographed it?” Elias said, unable to tap down the hint of a squee in her voice.

“Yes. And wait to tell Shadow until I’m out of camp, would you? She won’t shut up about the whole thing,” Varric said.

“You didn’t give her one?” Elias asked.

Varric grinned. “She didn’t give me the chance. I hardly rolled out of my tent and she had questions. Stole Cassandra’s copy, apparently. Blamed it on me, of course, and then wanted to know- well. You’ll know what she wanted to know when you read it yourself. Actually, nevermind. Take her with you when you come to ask your questions. Then I won’t have to repeat myself as many times. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I like to talk. Especially about myself. But I think my throat got blisters, or something.”

Elias thanked Varric, who only waved her off, and wandered away to see the rest of Haven. Such as it was.

*************************************************************

Elias talked to a few other people. An elf man, Fiorin, dressed in servant’s clothes, who she talked to of Shartan, and advised to ask Shadow if he had any questions. A Chantry sister, Ellana, who wanted to know if she needed any clothes. Elias hadn’t known how to answer, so she’d diverted the discussion to the Chantry sister, who had worked in a circle once, and was apparently willing to run interference with the templars if Elias should need it. She talked to the Quartermaster, Threnn, who came up with an actual list of things she needed help with. Elias took it, surprised at how forward the woman was with demanding help, and stuck it in one of the many pockets of her coat. She’d see if Shadow had any ideas on how to get the supplies- there were far more things that were needed than had been covered in the video game.

Elias thanked her for stepping in, made small talk about their soldiers/fortifications/plans, then asked about the warden.

“Leliana, if you don’t mind me asking, what was it like? Knowing the Hero of Ferelden?”

Elias watched Leliana closely.

Leliana smiled. “She’s an admirable woman,” she said. “Did you know she was also named Elias?”

Elias felt like she really should have thought up a response to that earlier. “Wha-at?” Elias said, wishing she could lie considerably better than she could. “That’s craaaazy.”

Leliana’s smile deepened. Mysteriously, probably. “She is somewhat like you in appearance, as well. Though a good ten years your senior. I think you may be related, on your mother’s side.”

Elias let herself breathe again. “That’s amazing. I wonder if I could meet her someday. Or is she doing Grey Warden things?”

Leliana’s smile faded slightly. “I don’t know. I haven’t… I haven’t heard from her. My contacts are looking, though. I will let you know if I find anything,” she finished, a businesslike cadence returning to her voice.

“That’s very considerate of you,” Elias said. “I hope you find her.”

 

Elias would have gone to talk to Josephine next (sweet, lovely Josephine) if she’d arrived in Haven yet. She was not due, however, for another several days.

Elias realized that the sun was getting far lower than she’d realized as she walked away from Leliana’s miniature fortification inside the fortifications around Haven, and decided to make a quick drop in at the apothecary (who Shadow had managed to infuriate somehow, unsurprisingly) picking up a small handbook on local herbs and how to gather them as well as a list of the herbs Apothecary Adan was short on (no thanks, apparently, to Shadow, who had begun listing what he thought were incredibly unlikely scenarios that were a waste of time and money to spend brewing). Elias made sure to pretend to be very sympathetic to how very overworked he was while not actually contradicting Shadow’s nightmare scenarios, since she knew full well that Shadow’s ‘nightmare’ was actually just the invasion of Haven that was going to happen. Probably. If they couldn’t convince Solas to give them Skyhold sooner.

As Elias stepped outside the main gate of Haven, she noticed that Leliana had set a pair of scouts to shadow her- it had been easy to dismiss their movements inside Haven, of course, since they walked separately and looked like they were going about their business. But the scouts- one sandy-haired, amber-skinned elf whose gender was not readily apparent under the gear, and one diminutive human woman with reddened cheeks and an awkward looking helm that covered her hair entirely, found it much harder to look like they belonged after they ventured closer to the gates to keep her within eyesight.

Well. That just begged for her to use her new invisibility spell. Elias made the slight hand-gesture mnemonic that substituted for a full rune-set in the field, and barely resisted the urge to cackle as she ran, invisible, past Cullen and the other ex-templars, Cassandra and several dozen recruits pretending they didn’t see her in case she asked for a spar, and into the forest to the left of Haven. Always left: this way, if Shadow needed to find her later, it’d be easy.

And if she remembered correctly, there was a little abandoned hut that way, that she could warm up with a nice rune-based fire while she read Tales of the Champion in blissful privacy.

If it weren’t for the reality-ending Breach in the sky, Elias thought, this would be an excellent vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES. NOTES. NOTE FOR THE CHAPTER (from the Editor!):
> 
> Fixed Point in Time – A Doctor Who reference, referring to a point in time that absolutely cannot be changed without dire consequences to the space-time continuum.
> 
> Hellmouth – from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a word denoting a particular spot in the world that literally sits on the mouth of hell. In most contexts, an easy way to say “a place where all the bad shit happens.”
> 
> Mage Revolution – the way Shadow and Elias would refer to the mage rebellion before being stuck in Thedas. And considering the avatars they find themselves stuck in, their deep loathing for the Chantry will seem very much in character for both of them. However, Elias can occasionally get carried away.
> 
> Thank you to everyone sticking with this story through our (admittedly long) hiatus!


	7. Tea With Friends

“So, what's the Herald like? Anything I should know before I meet her?” Josephine asked.  
  
There was an almost physically tangible silence as Cullen, Cassandra and Leliana looked at each other over the map-strewn table. The stone walls seemed to absorb even the sound of their breathing.   
  
“She's... enthusiastic,” Leliana said after a moment.   
  
“Competent,” Cassandra said.   
  
Cullen opened his mouth and then closed it. He shook his head. “I have to hope the Maker sent her,” he said.  
  
Somehow these didn't quite come across as compliments.   
  
“My friends," she said smoothly. Lightly. “It is just us here. Please, I would rather hear your opinion now, before I meet with her. It would not do to alienate someone I will be working with so closely.”  
  
Cullen's face grew slightly red, and he looked at the map more steadfastly.   
  
“Well,” Leliana said, her bard-trained voice smooth and difficult to read. “She's very sincere.”  
  
Cassandra sighed. “It seems our young Herald was involved in the Mage rebellion.”   
  
Josephine had barely had time to quirk an eyebrow and tilt her head to one side in confusion-- many mages had been involved, and she'd been under the impression everyone had decided to simply pretend Elias hadn’t been one of them.  
  
“'Was' involved might be... understating it a bit. She does not seem to understand the importance of working with the Templars.”  
  
“Or former Templars,” Leliana said, looking at Cullen significantly.   
  
“Is she difficult to work with?” Josephine asked delicately.   
  
“Oh, no, not at all,” Leliana said brightly. “Provided one is not a Templar.”   
  
“She seems to tolerate Cassandra,” Cullen griped.   
  
“More than tolerate,” Cassandra said. “The woman had me telling stories of my childhood, things I haven't thought about in years. She must have listened to me talk for an entire afternoon.”   
  
“It's just Cullen,” Leliana confirmed. Josephine was fairly sure only she could make out the amusement in her face.   
  
“Have the two of them met?" Josephine wondered. “Or perhaps he simply reminds her of a Templar she once knew?”  
  
“More Templars than I would prefer could have caused her dislike,” Cassandra said.   
  
Josephine made a note to carefully ask after Elias' history in the circle. If there were other people she reacted this way to, best to know ahead of time. It was those that prepared that won battles, after all. 

 

And then she realized there was another short staring match as the three advisors decided something silently amongst themselves.   
  
“Is there something the matter?” She asked.   
  
“There's . . . another woman we should tell you about,” said Cullen. “She's. Well. An elf.”  
  
“Dalish,” Leliana specified. “The first of clan Lavellen, near the circle Elias attended.”   
  
“Was she involved in the Mage rebellion?” Josephine asked, when the reason for the hesitance did not clear.   
  
“Almost certainly,” Cassandra said. “They have obviously worked together for many years. Beyond that, we have nothing.”   
  
“Even her clan claims no knowledge of her,” Leliana said. “I wouldn't have known myself who to contact, or how, if she hadn't told me.”  
  
“I was under the impression the Dalish were often secretive,” Josephine said.   
  
“She's eerie,” Cullen said. “The woman knows things she has no good reason to know.”   
  
“It is possible she's an abomination,” Cassandra said.   
  
Josephine did not write that down.   
  
“She's also the only competent magical healer within two days ride,” Leliana said. “And she has proven herself by risking her life to fight beside us.”   
  
“I will make sure to meet with her,” Josephine said.   
  
“Though...” Leliana said, coy amusement not well hidden, “I might be careful what I said about Elias. Things tend to explode when she gets upset.”   
  
“Mysteriously, only my things,” Cullen said. “Repeatedly. Sometimes while I'm using them.”  
  
“She does make an effort to fix them,” Leliana said.   
  
“I questioned her,” Cassandra added. “It does seem to be truly accidental.”  
  
Josephine jotted down "touchy" under Shadow's name. 

 

* * *

 

From the desk of Viscount Tethras, what appears to be part of a script in progress:

 

((THE SCENE: a small room in the Chantry building, the personal quarters of high-ranking Inquisition personnel. In the middle, sitting in chairs facing stage left and right, are The SPYMASTER and the DIPLOMAT. Facing the SPYMASTER, SHADOW LAVELLAN; facing the DIPLOMAT, ELIAS TREVELYAN. The DIPLOMAT and the SPYMASTER speak in unison for this scene))

 

* (Josephine/Leliana) I hope you like tea. I didn't think to ask!

 

ELIAS: I love tea! And cookies. And little cakes. And those little sandwiches! I haven't had a little tea sandwich in forever. 

 

SHADOW: Not particularly. Or rather, I've only "had tea" with Elias. I'm not versed in the social convention. 

 

* Really? 

 

ELIAS: Well, thing have been... chaotic. But fun! Sort of! I'm learning a lot. I don't think I've spent this much time around Shadow in... forever. It's kind of nice. 

 

SHADOW: Yes. 

 

* So, how long have you two known each other?

 

ELIAS: Oh! We met when we were- what, 12 or 13? Forever ago! Sometimes I'm amazed we managed to keep in touch all this time. 

 

SHADOW: Long enough. 

 

* And so you two came to the conclave together?

 

ELIAS: I assume so? I honestly don't remember. I mean my memory isn't the greatest to begin with, but I mean, we seem to have popped out of the fade together so I've been going by that. 

 

SHADOW: ( _she stares blankly at Leliana before asking flatly_ ) What is it you actually want to know? 

 

* Who do you think did this?

 

ELIAS and SHADOW: Tevinter.  

 

* Tevinter?

 

ELIAS: ( _with a hint of hero worship_ ) Well, Fiona pretty much has the leadership of the mage rebellion, and it's very much not her sort of thing to blow something up without saying anything first. I mean, she's famous for saying things. And in many people’s minds, the Mage rebellion was _started_ with exploding the Chantry, so that strategy has been pretty much used to its potential. ( _With only slight less warmth, and a careful smile_ )The loyalist mages are primarily under the leadership, such as it is, of Vivienne, the former Court Enchanter, and she absolutely would not resort to something as crude as blowing something up. She would gain control with words and behind-the-scenes maneuvers. ( _with the biggest, brightest smile of all_ ) The Templars would blow things up to get their way, but they would probably not sacrifice so many of their upper leadership to do so- not to mention that their stores of lyrium are going to be running low soon, if they haven't begun to already. Those in charge--who are the ones likely to have access to that sort of magical device--are also the ones who would know, more than most, exactly how firm a grip the Chantry keeps on their lyrium shipments. ( _At this point she is nearly rambling to herself, oblivious to the look of surprise on THE DIPLOMAT'S face)_ The dwarves--specifically the Carta I suppose--would have access to the kind of power and technology needed as well--but they lack the motivation, since their entire economy relies on the lyrium market being stable. Prolonging the war might be in their favor, but disrupting the supply chain by killing those in a position to negotiate isn't. The Qunari, of course, also might have the capacity to blow something up--they are known for their explosives--Saar Quamek, I believe it’s called?--and they might have the motivation to increase the civil unrest. They do have the eventual goal of converting the entire world to the Qun, after all. But they've been tied up with Tevinter for awhile, with no signs anyone has seen that I know of to invade anywhere. ( _The_ _DIPLOMAT_ _begins scribbling notes as ELIAS speaks, but she does not notice.)_ Not to mention, if the Qunari are blowing things up, it seems unlikely they would use untested magic to do so. They don't trust magic, to the point of sewing their mages mouths closed. That basically leaves Tevinter. Probably not Tevinter proper, since their government officials are too busy backstabbing each other--their version of the Game, only with magic-- to actually pull off a viable attack against a low-priority target. No, it's probably either a rogue Magister with more ambition than sense, or a group of low-ranking but high-ambition non-magister mages, hoping to advance their careers via non-traditional avenues. Considering the location, possibly one of the Old God cultists. 

 

SHADOW: Yes. 

 

* What do you know of the mechanisms behind the mark?

 

ELIAS: ( _with a shrug and a very animated hand gesture_ ) Almost nothing! But it seems to work, so that's good!

 

SHADOW: Less than I'd like. 

 

* That's all?

 

ELIAS: Well, I don't really know much about fade magic, so. I was always sort of more into fire. Shadow always tells me I could heal if I set my mind to it, but I really can't. 

 

SHADOW: ( _she stares at Leliana for a long moment_ , _and seems to come to a conclusion, though indecision is still written across her face_ ) If I told you what I know, you'd let something slip trying to verify my information. Even if I trust you, I don't trust everyone you trust. Don't get me wrong. I'm interested in using your sources to expand my information base. But I've got not only my clan to think of, but every elf who would be suspected of talking to me. We aren't the only faction out there by a long shot, and by now the people involved in the breach are searching for answers. I just can't take that chance. 

 

* You can't?

 

ELIAS: ( _very brightly_ ) Well, I can heal corpses just fine, but not people. Turns out I've got a knack for necromancy, if you can imagine!

 

SHADOW: ( _reluctantly, with a searching look_ ) Can I trust you to not tell anyone? To not write it down anywhere, or tell even your most trusted and oldest allies, even if we seem to catch those responsible? Even your elven allies who have as much to lose as I do? Can you swear to the Maker to keep this secret?

 

* I can. 

 

ELIAS: Well! But I only do ethical necromancy. I don't just shove souls into bodies they don't belong into or anything like that. It's more like being able to be friends with the undead. 

 

SHADOW: If I understand correctly, they were trying to accomplish something. I think Elias and I stumbled across them, and she accidentally touched an ancient elven artifact. ( _The SPYMASTER'S face remain impassively polite)_ Tevinter magisters would probably call it a Foci, but the elven word has been lost. The artifact is meant to channel power- some say the power of the Gods themselves. Doubtful the Tevinters care for the elven gods. More likely it was some inane blood ritual meant to sacrifice those at the conclave to advance someone's powers. Might be one of the cults devoted to bringing back the glory days of Tevinter, or replicate the Magister's trip to the Black City. ( _The SPYMASTER_ _shifts her weight to cover her surprise_ )

 

* Is that... Are you sure? I admit I don't know much about magic, but that seems...

 

ELIAS: Well, I guess I just feel like I'm friends with them? I suppose it's hard to say for sure. Some people say they're the actual spirits of the deceased, and others say that it's just the imprint of the deceased on a spirit. 

 

SHADOW: I'm sure that Elias and I were in the raw fade, though much of our memory of it seems to be gone. I'm not sure that it was people from Tevinter, though that's obviously the smart money. It could have been elves, for all I know. ( _She is insistant_ ) Which is why it's so vital you don't let any of this slip to anyone. Not even elves, not even people you have known since before it seems it could have been possible for this to have started. We have to assume whoever it was had enough resources in place- enough spies among our own people- to pull this off. They won't all have died. Not just that. How do I... this site. It's not just sacred to Andrastrians. I believe it's one of the ancient holy sites of the Elves, as well. A source of power. You've heard about what happened in Kirkwall. ( _The SPYMASTER nods_ ) That's another site of power- where the veil is notoriously thin. It's no coincidence that the war was sparked there, where the ancient Magisters originally opened the veil. That place, too, is near an elven holy site. Sundermount. If I'm right about what's going on, people are taking advantage of places holy to the elves to increase their own power. If it weren't impossible to explain without tipping our hand, I would be saying the Inquisition should be looking into gaining control of other sites. If I'm right, that's what our enemies are going to go for first. 

 

 

* That's... enlightening. 

 

ELIAS: ( _suddenly worried_ ) I hope I haven't weirded you out! Some people get grossed out by necromancy. I just sort of opened my mouth, and words came out, didn't I!

 

SHADOW: ( _grimaces self-depreciatingly_ ) That came out an entire mess, didn't it?

 

* Not at all! I appreciate your... unique point of view. 

 

((SHADOW and ELIAS exit their respective meetings at the same time and walk together downstage right. Enter VARRIC TETHRAS))

 

VARRIC: ( _casually_ ) So, how was tea?

 

ELIAS and SHADOW: Fucking terrifying. 

 


	8. Elias yells.

Between the things Elias had volunteered to do around town to get people to hopefully not think she was a useless, lazy layabout, and people deciding Shadow was a Magical Genius for reciting Tumblr DA Meta and pulling her aside to pick her mind about the Mark, it was a while before the two of them got a moment alone to confirm their stories. 

“Okay please don't be mad about a thing, I mean be mad if you want because I don't want to invalidate your feelings but also please realize I didn't mean to cause problems I just sort of opened my mouth and words came out. Okay but it might be okay because--"

Elias wondered idly how she was going to get everyone to accept that she was going to recruit Anders. Because she WAS going to recruit him. Maybe she could play up the Hero of Ferelden connection? It was a serious shame she couldn't use that life more directly. Or, she could, but it didn't seem like it should be a first play. Maybe—

Shadow continued, unaware of Elias' mind straying. 

“...and I thought it would be okay because she's so reasonable. Not like, say, Cullen. Did I tell you he had me followed? Not even a joke. By that Templar chick, too, super embarr-"

It took Elias just a moment to parse what Shadow had said. And then repeat it in case she had interpreted incorrectly. And then it took Elias less than a moment to realize she was going to kill someone.

But first, of course, she needed to exit the conversation. She pasted a smile on her face.

“Would you please excuse me? I forgot about a Thing I have to do.” She kept the smile on a moment longer and then turned on her heel, the step so quick Shadow simply stood there and watched her leave. 

***

It wasn't as though Elias went looking for fights. In fact, there were all of three or four people in Thedas who could really provoke her into revealing her actual temper.

Cullen Rutherford happened to be one of those people, and this time Shadow wasn't around to run interference.

Elias was making no guarantees the Inquisition would have a commander at the end of the day.

"There was nothing untoward about it," he huffed. Elias sensed something in his tone akin to the way an adult spoke to an annoying child that wasn't theirs, but nonetheless they were expected to be polite to.

"You assigned a Templar to follow an innocent Mage. An innocent, elven Mage who is allied with the Inquisition. Nothing about that situation is acceptable!"

"And we know that now," he agreed soothingly. Or what he probably imagined was a soothing voice. "But we can't take chances-"

"You're right. We can't. I don't want you or your people near Shadow. If you're going to-"

"We still have a job to do," Cullen interrupted. "I can't put aside our work for the sensibilities of-"

"You had her followed like a common criminal!"

"Apostates are criminals!" Cullen insisted.

Elias reacted as if she had been slapped. The expression of mild irritation she had previously been unable to keep from her face was replaced with one of towering fury.

"FIRST OFF, YOU UNBELIEVABLE HYPOCRITE," she thundered, watching the much taller man in full armor visibly step back in the face of her rage, "LET’S ALL RAISE OUR HANDS IF WE'VE KILLED AN UNARMED PERSON--"

"Mages are never unarmed--"

"REGARDLESS OF WHATEVER PATHETIC JUSTIFICATION YOU NEED TO USE TO MAKE IT OKAY," Elias continued to bellow right over the top of him. "SECONDLY, I noticed only ONE OF US GOT FOLLOWED? HMM WOW OH HMMMMMM. Even though both of us are apostates? Wow, it’s almost like you're a fucking RACIST AS WELL AS A MORON."

She ignored the look of shocked outrage on Cullen's face and continued, at an only marginally lower volume. "The Chantry, which you insist you don't serve anymore, can shout whatever drivel they like, as loudly as they like—“

"... Drivel...?"

“It doesn't make it a god damned fact. And I'm sure that ‘dangerous, criminal apostate’ we all should fear so much would be PERFECTLY TRUSTWORTHY to you as soon as you were bleeding badly enough, you fucking moldy sponge.”

"Now, healers have proven themselves- healing magic inherently-"

"Yeah, those are the kinds of justifications I'm talking about," Elias snarled. "I'm sure it helps you feel better about killing twelve year olds that step out of line." The angry smile on her face was more a grimace, a baring of teeth, than anything normally associated with friendship.

"I don't know what you've heard, but I-"

"Commander. Herald." Josephine's firm but modulated voice caught their attention effortlessly.

The two of them swiveled toward the woman, still holding her tablet covered in what was once accounting and now was accounting-and-red-wax.

"We have all lost people," she continued, even more softly, and yet somehow her words cut straight into Elias. Elias was arguing over hypotheticals- everyone else present in Haven, including Josephine, had lost actual friends at the Conclave, and in the war.

Josephine continued before Elias or Cullen could think to mount some sort of protest. "Surely, then, we can agree that our priority is the safety of everyone here?" She set her quill down at that, as if in emphasis. Or perhaps, she simply realized she could take no notes on the subject until she'd found fresh parchment.

"Naturally-" Cullen said, as Elias mutely nodded.

"It seems to me that Leliana's people are the experts at evaluating threats," Josephine noted neutrally. "Perhaps next time we have a concern about one of our own, we should have her see to it?"

"Of course- I did not intend to impose on- is she upset?" Cullen said, the words tripping over his tongue. Elias let herself be pettily pleased someone had gotten him to shut up about the dangers of mages. Internally, though. She thought she had mostly gained control over her face once again.

Josephine politely allowed Cullen's babble, which continued into self-recriminations, a statement about failing in his duties, and a hasty stammered excuse to see to his soldiers.

Then she turned to Elias with an expression that might have been a smile, if the dim chantry light was to be believed. "Do you know, I brought some Antivan tea with me. I wonder if you would be interested in drinking it with me? Leliana so prefers the Orlesian stuff- oh, and the cook managed to scrape together some honey cakes; I hear they are a Ferelden tradition..."

Elias wasn't quite sure what had happened, but she wasn't going to turn down tea and cake with a beautiful, amazing woman.

"Has anyone ever told you how incredible you are?" Elias asked rhetorically.

Josephine laughed, and began the walk back to her office. Elias followed. "I'm quite serious. Beauty and tact. I don't think we deserve you."

"Simply doing my job," Josephine smiled.

"Saving a man's life, more accurately," Elias said sheepishly. "I'm really not like that with most people. I just-"

"You feel protective of your friend," Josephine said, closing the door to her office with one hand, and setting down her tablet with the other. "I am the same way, if perhaps... less vocal about it. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Well..." Elias hedged. "I could see how... possibly some of what I said could be problematic. For the inquisition. And Cullen... serves a purpose."

Josephine shrugged gracefully, uncovering her small tea set and pulling out a second cup-and-saucer for Elias. "The Inquisition will simply have to work with the resources available to us. There are serious grievances on both sides, and no easy resolution. I knew that when I accepted this post. While it is true that . . . perhaps I would have dealt with the matter differently, it is more than reasonable for you to expect your friend receive fair treatment here. We are trying, though perhaps not always succeeding, to treat everyone fairly. And to address your concerns more directly-- Leliana will be having a conversation with Cullen privately later, I think. Your friend should have no more worries on that front."

"Thank you," Elias said, both for the statement, and the tea Josephine poured out of the dainty teapot.

"Though, if the rumors are correct, Shadow seems to provoke controversy regardless. Is it true she blew up the Commander's tent? The story seems to grow more colorful with each telling..."

"Sadly, I was unconscious at the time... I also heard that when we tumbled out of the portal in the Temple, she basically threatened everyone into not killing us. I'm not even sure how that works."

Josie laughed. "I get the feeling she's uncomfortable around people she doesn't know well. But she knows a great deal about the fade! I think! At the least, she talked about it for quite a while. My hand got quite sore transcribing."

"Yeah... magic theory is one of those things... you probably shouldn't ask her about politics, either. Or art. Or literature."

"Politics?" Josephine blinked. "She barely spoke about that when the subject came up..."

Elias blinked. She would take a sip of her tea to stall an answer if the steam rising didn't forbid it.  
"Huh. That's... she usually actually doesn't stop talking about it. Or let anyone change the subject... I don't know why she would..."

And then it occurred to her that perhaps Shadow had been concerned she might slip up and admit she knew something she wasn't supposed to be able to.

Josephine delicately put a lump of sugar in her tea, and after a moment Elias followed suit. "She also said she'd only done tea before because of you. I sometimes forget that some people live life differently than the people around me... perhaps that is a thing Shadow finds difficult to forget."

Elias abruptly remembered that she was supposed to be a noble and Shadow was... decidedly not. Holding a convincing cover was annoyingly complicated.

"The Dalish value different traditions," Elias said.

Josephine smiled, and took a delicate sip of tea. "They're quite fascinating, are they not? So mysterious, and proud."

Elias braved a sip as well. The steam was rising less vigorously, after all. Hot, but not bitter. Elias hated bitter things.

"They're really not much different than anyone else," she said. "Other than their views on magic, not locking people up, and several hundred years of oppression.” Elias shrugged. “People are pretty much just people, in the end."

The smile on Josephine's face at that was bright as sunshine. "I think that's what I like best about my position here-- seeing the things we have in common, underneath all the bitterness; making peace between people who would otherwise never find common ground."

"If you can get Cullen and me to respectfully disagree, you can probably solve anything," Elias agreed, feeling a silly smile on her own face. "I'm impressed how fast you made it to the scene."

"Practical shoes have served me well," Josephine laughed. "A shame how the snow ruins them! I'll never quite get used to this climate."

"You know, Shadow showed me a water-repelling charm- if you'd like, I could put it on some of your shoes?"

"How resourceful!" Josephine enthused. "That would be greatly appreciated, Herald. And my thanks to Shadow as well, of course. There is so much about magic I never knew was possible. I wonder how much of the fear of it is simply fear of the unknown?"

The honey cakes were, as expected, good. As was the rest of the conversation, and therefore the rest of the afternoon by association. The waterproofing charm- a simple rune-based variation of a camp-warding charm- was simple enough to apply to several pairs of Josephine's dainty shoes, though Elias made sure to point out she didn't know how long the charm lasted between applications. And too soon it was evening, and time to prepare for the journey the next day, and Elias reluctantly joined Shadow in their cabin for the last night before they had to go to the Hinterlands.

Which would have bears, but no Cullen. Elias was not at all sure if that was a fair trade.


	9. We're taking the Herald to Hinterlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you, perhaps, use the word 'superstitious'?

"Do you think I was too forward?" Elias asked as Haven receded into the distance.

Shadow looked at Cassandra, then Varric, then Solas, before seeming to decide Elias had perhaps been talking to her. "... directionally, or metaphorically?"

"When we said goodbye, and I told Josephine how much I was going to miss talking with her, I mean I know I can't be too subtle with her, but at the same time I don't want her to feel pressured..."

"Are we blackmailing the Ambassador?" Varric asked cheerfully. "Because I would go after the luxury goods first. Soft target, but low risk..."

"I... was flirting with her!" Elias spluttered. "I would never blackmail- she's so perfect- she wouldn't fall for it anyway- how could you even think about it, do you know how much she's given up to help us--"

"I think it's extremely unlikely Josephine even knows you want into her frilly, silk pants," Shadow drawled past Elias' indignation.

"Are you serious?" Elias asked. "I mean, I've been pretty heavy-handed with the whole-"

"Varric missed it right in front of him. I think you might have to break out some love poetry and chocolates. And honestly, even that--she's Antivan--really, you've got an uphill battle."

"I can do poetry!" Elias said earnestly. "Do you think it has to be my own, or can it be quotes? Because I've got a lot memorized, and they did say we should send back letters--"

"How did I not know you wrote poetry?" Shadow asked rhetorically. "Why would I have assumed you just happened to have a working knowledge of the theory... we talking metered stuff, or freestyle here?"

"Metered. I don't want to start off informal. That seems a bit presumptuous, don't you think?"

"Did you happen to get a look at what books she brought with her?" Shadow offered. "I only had time to look over the magical theory ones, myself..."

"I believe most of them were songbooks, rather than poetry specifically," Solas said.

"I can do singing!" Elias said, relieved. "Oh, but I'm out of practice... anybody know any Antivan love songs?"

"I've only got Orlesian and the trade tongue ones memorized," Shadow admitted. "And I don't super like our chances of stumbling over a book of Antivan music--though you could just put regular verse to another song, that's easy enough-"

"Someone tell me we aren't becoming a singing troupe," Varric muttered. "I didn't sign up for this. Killing demons, sure. Singing..."

***

It was like camping, in some ways; like hiking. Like the survival camp she'd gone to as a child.

And it also wasn't. Hours and hours of hiking and walking didn't come with a commentary of the local flora and fauna, an explanation of the history behind the local geography. They took paths and roads more often than not, and passed bodies that had begun to decompose.

They set the ones on the roads to burning; with three mages it seemed almost negligent not to. But they didn't stay and watch them burn.

Leliana's scouts left caches for them, firewood and food and clean water. It saved time, both in not finding places to camp at night and in not being too burdened to walk quickly.

The first night was the worst.

After a long day of walking quickly on barely broken-in shoes, silence largely broken only by Cassandra and Varric trading uncalled-for barbs. Shadow wasn't certain, of course, why Elias and Solas were so quiet, but between their shared introversion and the secrets nobody wanted to risk saying, Shadow thought she could hazard a good guess.

And now they were setting up the first night of camp. The tent distribution seemed to have been decided without words to be divided by gender- Cassandra and Varric grimly but efficiently setting up the respective women and men's tents. The wards, however . . .

"Is there a particular reason you wish me to do the wards?" Solas asked a moment after Shadow suggested (nicely, she'd thought) that he might want to set them up.

"I. What?" Shadow asked intelligently.

"Do the Dalish not have their own traditions? Or is it perhaps out of a desire to not share-"

"Fucking gods, Solas," Shadow snapped. "Are you fucking serious?"

Solas blinked. Apparently, Shadow noted, he had expected her reaction to be different. And then he narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth. Shadow didn't find out what he was going to say.

"Guys," Elias called by the fire pit she had been tending. "Can we not fight? I'm tired. I just want to get this done so we can sleep."

"I only asked-" Shadow began.

Elias uncharacteristically interrupted. "I heard. Solas, please just put the wards up."

"Of course," Solas said after a moment.

The awkward silence continued afterwards while everyone finished setting camp for the night. It continued as they choked down the re-hydrated stew that counted for dinner; it was gritty and somehow bitter, but at least it was warm.

It continued, that is, until Solas once again opened his mouth to say words.

"I did not intend to cause offense," Solas said stiffly, carefully not making direct eye contact with anyone around their small campfire.

Nobody immediately replied, so Shadow thought she should perhaps- "Are you talking to me or Elias?" she asked to confirm.

"I hardly think Elias would be offended by talking of Dalish customs," Solas reasoned.

"That's-" Shadow sighed. "You're--" How was she going to point out that he was the only native Mage? Or that he was the Dread Fucking Wolf and had, one assumed, a good ability to not be detected?

"--an apostate, who has successfully avoided notice by Templars for your entire life. You have the best wards. It was the tactically sound choice for you to be putting up the wards."

"Ah."

"If you want to learn Dalish customs, all you have to do is show up and ask," Shadow said after a moment. And then realized the next step. "And don't mock their religious beliefs out loud."

"If they wouldn't cling to superstition-" Solas began. Shadow noticed Elias turn her head around, ostensibly to search for something behind her, but she suspected the human woman was just using it as an opportunity to roll her eyes where Solas wouldn't see.

"You're a grown-ass man," Shadow said. "I promise it's not that hard to keep your mouth shut."

Varric laughed. "We talking about the same elf here, Violet?"

"I just didn't want..." Shadow closed her mouth. She couldn't exactly say that she didn't want to expose the fact that she'd never done wards with this world's magic, and it didn't seem like winging it was polite with other people involved. But then again, why should she in particular know how to do that? And who would know what she was and wasn't supposed to know, anyway? Certainly not Solas, she realized. "... I haven't ever actually done wards. Myself. For sleeping in."

"Daisy never learned how to heal," Varric offered before Shadow could feel too much more awkward. "Could kill stuff with the best of us, but we'd have bled out without healing potions."

"How can you not learn how to heal? It's so easy," Shadow blurted.

"I think necromancy is easy," Elias pointed out with a shrug. "Everyone's different."

"If you would like," Solas said, "I can show you the wards I use. They are not difficult, and should we end up separated, I would be comforted knowing the Herald is still protected. Unless..." Solas paused, and out of the corner of her eye Shadow saw what she was calling his “attempting to be tactful” face make an appearance.

"I don't know any, either," Elias said, before Solas could ask. "It hadn't actually occurred to me. I assumed we would set up a watch."

Cassandra made a small noise. "Would you prefer we do that? I can-"

"If you guys think the wards are enough, I don't really care," Elias said.

"It would be safest to do both," Shadow said. "But in theory, Leliana's scouts have cleared out the path between us and the base camp."

"In theory," Cassandra agreed.

"Solas said he's used his wards to sleep in some dangerous places," Elias said. "He's not dead yet."

"They can, however, be taken down by a sufficiently talented Mage," Solas said. "If reports are to be believed, the closer we get to the Crossroads, the more mages there will be, and the more desperate they will become."

Cassandra nodded, then stood to add another log to the campfire; the wood crackled angrily as it entered the flames. "Shadow is correct--it would be safest to do both. Until we reach an Inquisition camp, we'll take turns keeping watch."

***  
Cassandra woke Shadow up for the second watch by tapping her foot and attempting a whisper that it was second watch.

Shadow took an embarrassingly long time to realize she was being woken up on purpose, and then when she stood outside the tent and glared at Cassandra, the warrior woman had the nerve to not notice the anger on her face, and instead unroll her sleeping mat and crawl back in the tent.

Which left Shadow alone, darkness broken by the moon, stars, embers of the fire that had not quite gone all the way out, and the ever-green swirling of the breach.

In her native world, Shadow would have pulled out her phone and gone online. Researched the things she'd seen that day, made notes about her plans. Texted Elias.

But she had no phone. No electricity, no wifi, no internet. She had a poorly-constructed almost-guitar, but even if her fingers hadn't been too numb to play, there was no sense waking her companions or alerting traveling criminals.

Nor did she have any way of gauging the time, she realized after attempting to warm her hands by the fire enough to at least practice the chord fingering. If she'd been an actual Dalish, of course, she would have known which constellation meant which hour. But she wasn't; seeing the stars slowly move did no good at all. Nor was she sure whether she was supposed to awaken Elias, Solas, or Varric for the next watch; she'd not paid attention when the watch arrangements had been negotiated. Elias had offered to take the first watch, she knew, and then their three companions had teamed up in deciding that was a Terrible Idea. Nobody had bothered asking Shadow what she thought of the process.

And so the night passed slowly. Shadow did not grow less grumpy, but she did resolve herself to not complain about it. This was her life now. Instead she watched the Breach, and listened to the soft sounds of the nighttime around them, and poked at the fire if it looked like it wasn't doing well.

Cassandra woke first, as the edge of the sky grew pink. "Why did you not wake Solas for his watch?" She asked, not quietly at all, in the heavier accent she got when she was confused or irritated.

Shadow realized she had forgotten to prepare a good excuse for her inability to tell time by the stars. "He seemed to need his sleep," she said instead. It could be plausible. Solas was a fade walker, after all. Maybe she could even play it off as a strategic-

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, and began kicking dirt over the remains of the fire.

"Good morning to you too," Varric griped as he emerged from the tent he shared with Solas. "I see you've regained all your customary charm," he shot at Cassandra's back under his breath. He turned to Shadow. "Not gonna wake Elias? She doesn't set things on fire when she wakes up, right? Only I knew a guy once-"

"No fire," Shadow confirmed. "Just takes a while to get her upright. You're more than welcome to give it a try."

"We have no time to waste," Cassandra said, her harsh tone unreadable as usual, before leaning into the men's tent and shaking.

Shadow forced herself to look away as Solas stumbled sleepy-eyed out of his tent. The man had no right being that vulnerable-looking. It made Shadow feel things she wasn't sure were a good idea, all things considered.

Instead, she watched Cassandra prove her a liar, as a patch of dried grass half-covered by snow lit itself on fire after Cassandra pulled her "reach into tent and shake the Mage awake" move on Elias. Varric shot Shadow a smirk at that.

It was going to be a very long day.

***

It didn't happen right away. Things were fine as they continued to make their way through the snow-filled paths off the mountain. 

And then, as they walked through thickets of evergreen trees where the branches clung close to the path, Elias realized that Shadow looked... on edge. 

It wasn't a particularly creepy wood; full of nature, of course. Birds and bugs and--

Ah. Yes. Bugs. Elias understood the problem. 

Shadow, the woman currently thrown into the body of a Dalish Mage, had a bug phobia. Elias wasn't sure if there had been an instigating incident or if the woman had always had this particular weakness. 

Well. 

This could be interesting. 

There were ways of mitigating this, Elias decided. She couldn't eliminate every bug out there, but she was a Mage, and observant. If she worked hard enough, surely she could keep them from touching Shadow unexpectedly. 

It was going to be a very long day.

***

Shadow’s fingers reached over the strings of her not-guitar (lute?) without conscious realization.  
It was familiar, and it was not. It was like a dream. Days when her hands had worked; time spent alone in the dark, before access to the Internet and her mobile phone. Her fingers already had callouses in just the right spots. Why? Whose body had she taken over, and what did they do with themselves? Or was this a manifestation of the way she saw herself, filtered through the lens of Thedas?

It made sense, in a very stretched sort of way, that Elias might pass through. It was her world they'd landed in; her heart-felt decisions that had shaped it, and her avatar that had the Mark.

Why was Shadow there?

Days two and three had both passed much the same as the first—a lot of walking on sore feet and cold food chewed largely in silence. As they left the Frostbacks for the forest the wind died down and the snow disappeared, which was appreciated by absolutely everyone, as it would mean dry socks again for the first time since leaving Haven. Shadow didn’t feel it would be helpful or smart to point out that she was still colder than she’d ever been in her life, even without the snow and the wind.

"I see you're making good use of-" a voice started behind her.

Shadow squeaked in a very undignified manner, would have dropped the (not) guitar but for the strap around her torso, and had a very bouncy shield up around herself before she had stood all the way up.

And then she blinked in the moonlight at Solas, standing with his arms loosely and unthreatening at his side.

"You didn't wake me for my shift," Solas said, after an achingly long silence in which it was made clear that Shadow wasn't going to speak.

"Was I too loud?" Shadow asked. "People were still snoring so I thought... it would be fine? To practice?"

"I'm a heavy sleeper," Solas assured her with a quirk of the mouth.

"Right. Somniari." Shadow sank back down onto the log Cassandra had pulled by the fire for a makeshift chair.

Solas sat, less heavily, on the rock Varric had made use of.

"Having my own wards up helps," Solas admitted. "I did not intend to... imply anything. Before. I have had unpleasant encounters with the Dalish. Perhaps I am over-cautious, now."

"I suspect even the Dalish have had that sort of encounter," Shadow said dryly, recalling the apology the game offered, but not quite sure she had mastery of her voice enough to try and pronounce the elvhen.

"I may have challenged a few of their superstitions," Solas said. "Perhaps I should not have been surprised they took offense."

"Elias always tells me it's to do with how you say something, more than what you say," Shadow said. "Did you, perhaps, use the word superstition?"

"Their reaction was not in proportion to the offense," Solas grumped.

"'We are the last of the Elvhen; Never again shall we submit' isn't a very nuanced starting point," Shadow said.

"Their tenacity is admirable," Solas admitted. "Still."

Shadow sighed. Solas tilted his head slightly.

"I should probably be apologizing," Shadow said after a moment. "But it's not something I'm good at. And doing it in elvhen..."

"I can speak it," Solas assured her, the lilt in his voice pronounced.

"I just have this image of you correcting my pronunciation," Shadow said. "And then me attempting murder. And then Elias giving me a talking to about... something. I'm sure she would be able to explain why murder is bad."

"How would you murder me?" Solas asked.

"You know, I am pretty sure it would be a surprise to me as well," Shadow said. "I haven't actually come up with a kill-plan for you. Or at least, not one where you're awake."

"Oh?"

"Cassandra I would kick off a cliff. Or one of those steep paths. We've passed a few good ones. Varric I wouldn't have to kill, because I could threaten Bianca. My targeted fire spells aren't terrible, and she's got lots of nicely flammable parts."

"I suppose I should feel flattered that I haven't made it to this list," Solas said.

"You have," Shadow corrected lightly. "I'd use Cassandra's sword to cut as far through your neck as I could while you were sleeping."

"So I couldn't magically undo it...?"

"That's the thought. Fire you might put out with an ice spell in your sleep; suffocation would take too long. People have survived a surprising assortment of injuries to the brain, and I would feel terrible to just leave you addled."

"But not dead," he said.

"Death is the next great adventure," Shadow quipped. "Who knows what wonders you could explore?"

"Not poison? Or delegating? There are people who could cut off my head entirely before I awoke."

"I suppose I made my plans using the resources readily available," Shadow said. "But... even so, poison has a lot of downsides. The good stuff is expensive and hard to source. The cheap stuff is dangerous for the user. And delegating would mean I would have to convince someone else to do a thing, and hope they did it right. I'm not confident in either of those."

"You wouldn't have Elias do it?"

"If Elias wanted you dead, you'd be dead," Shadow laughed. "You may not have noticed this, but she's not the most subtle person alive."

"Hmm."

"Are you contesting her ability to kill you, or her lack of subtlety?"

"Nobody is as genuine as they appear," Solas equivocated.

"Why not?" Shadow asked.

Solas didn't immediately answer, so she continued.

"I mean it literally. What reason does she have to be ungenuine? Lies are a burden. Elias has had to lie enough in her life. When she gets the opportunity to tell the truth, she takes it, every time."

"And yourself? Do you think lies are a burden?"

"I..." There were too many places to take that train of thought. Shadow let her mind find the path of the conversation again. "Yes."

"But one you carry willingly."

"What's the dividing point between keeping a secret and a lie of omission?" Shadow asked.

"A good question," Solas said instead of an answer.

"I do know a lot of things I don't just... say," Shadow admitted, glad for the bit of privacy the darkness offered her face. "A lot of things... would probably not go over well."

She thought for a moment. This was almost as good a time as she was likely to get to tell Solas she knew about him. Who and what he was. In such a way that he was not able to ask Elias about it.

But this wasn't the man in the video game who lovingly caressed Lavellan's face, and who almost told her everything. This was far closer to the man who had killed Felassan for daring to believe in a woman much like Solas.

"As I have learned myself," Solas agreed.

"Elias said you go to ruins to dream," Shadow said. In the game, Solas could be well-relied on to talk easily on his supposed travels, and his dreams. Time to see how well that subject change worked in person. "Have you been to many elvhen ruins?"

"A few. Was there one in particular you were curious about?"

"Dirthaman's temple," Shadow said, mind running blank of safe ruins she was supposed to actually know about.

"Ah. Like your markings." Solas sounded almost disappointed.

"I've heard a few things," Shadow said defensively. It wasn't fair to assume she'd asked about that just because of her 'slave markings'. "About what it's like now, as a ruin."

"Oh? I didn't know it still existed."

"It's full of demons," Shadow described, and then found her mouth continuing to move. "Some sort of preservation spell gone off, I think. It's got- murals. Great mosaics along the walls, with stylized images of Falon'din. Puzzles. An enormous statue of Fen'Harel, with offerings." She stopped herself just before she could muse about the possible friendship between Fen'Harel and Dirthaman, two gods known for secrets and hidden ways and thinking at things sideways.

"You sound almost as if you've been there."

Shadow shrugged, the moment not as loose as she'd have liked. Perhaps she'd had more accurate information than she was supposed to. Her throat felt tight. She bit back a comparison between that temple and other ones and the ways in which her knowledge could have been inferred from a description of another temple. And then she opened her mouth again, because she had a thought and maybe... well. Maybe it would mean something.

"I heard... they were afraid of having their secrets stolen. They did some sort of terrible ritual to keep them. When Dirthaman got locked away."

Solas was silent, and in that long moment Shadow felt her throat slowly relax, and she continued to her point. "I don't think secrets are that important for their own sake. I'm probably more on the side of knowledge, you know? If one is going to pursue something for its own sake. That's... if I could visit anywhere, it would be the Vir Dirthara."

"The path of knowledge?" Solas translated, as if neutrally, but there was an odd twinge to his voice Shadow couldn't quite place.

"Supposed to be a library," Shadow said, mouth working while she tried to place the tone of voice. Was it tension? Like a bow about to shoot? The heaviness of sorrow, or the bitterness of guilt? The forced neutrality was anything but... "Or The Library, I guess, depending who you ask. I'm not actually clear on if it's a place in this world, or if it's in the fade, or a place between. Full of books, and they tell you things without reading. Or I've heard better descriptions, anyway. I'm not doing it justice. Or as far as something whose existence can't actually be confirmed..." She trailed off, aware that she'd just said things she wasn't perhaps supposed to know. Again. This was why she had been trying not to talk.

But.

What she really wanted was to demand an end to the charade. The ridiculousness of tramping around the woods when Solas surely knew an easier way of getting things done. One where nobody had to take shifts to keep watch at night.

Or. And this was a thought she tried not to think too loudly, much less voice. Or get herself and Elias home. This world was not superior to one with internet and central heating.

***

"We should probably talk strategy at some point," Shadow said to Elias the next morning, in a lull between Varric and Cassandra's bickers, as the sun poured golden over the tall grass-covered fields they walked through.

"As in, how we’re going to talk to Mother Giselle?" Elias asked, not placing the context. “That’s probably a good thing to do before we get to the Crossroads. How close are we, by the way?”

“A day, perhaps two,” Cassandra answered shortly.

"I was thinking more nitty-gritty,” Shadow clarified. “I mean we did well against the demons pouring from the sky, which was surprisingly smooth for being un-coordinated. But I was more thinking, we're going to go up against reasoning beings now. Humans and elves. Probably mostly humans. And it occurred to me maybe we might not have to kill all of the ones that try to kill us, if we coordinate."

"And then what, Violet?" Varric asked. "Tie them up and try to convince them to work for the Inquisition?"

"Uh. Yes. That was actually pretty much exactly my thought," Shadow said.

Varric shook his head. "I don't think you really get how entrenched these people are in their ways, kiddo. They're not going to just listen to us."

"You can convince almost anyone of almost anything if you have enough patience," Shadow disagreed. "Just look at the Ben Hassrath. Or I guess maybe that isn't common knowledge. But it really can be done."

"You're talking brainwashing," Cassandra stated.

"Convincing!" Shadow insisted. "Come on. Assuming they aren't under demonic influence, which we might well be able to lift by the way, I bet some of them are going to be convinced by a warm meal at this point."

"These are hardened criminals," Cassandra objected. "They are fighting to the death out here. Nothing will convince them."

"True, there's a definite sunk-cost fallacy going on here. But! The secret to getting people to hop out of that is changing the score card. Which we can do."

"This should be good," Varric said.

"It's super obvious!" Shadow enthused. "I can't believe you don't see it."

"I don't see it either," Elias noted.

"You're the Herald of friggin’ Andraste! So no harm no foul!"

"What?" Cassandra said.

"Oh for the love of-" Elias moaned. "No."

Shadow barreled on. "No, seriously! It's the perfect excuse! 'Why did you abandon the cause, traitor!' 'I didn't abandon it, the Herald of Andraste called me to a higher purpose!'"

"I hate you," Elias noted.

Shadow grinned. "So..."

"Short another plan, I guess?" The words said yes, but the tone of voice said 'please strike me down now'.

"You're serious about this," Cassandra said.

"I..." Elias sighed. "I would rather not kill people if we don't have to. If... following..." She scoffed. "I can't even say it. The Herald of Andraste. Guys, can we try and brainstorm another...? This is just."

"Sometimes you gotta fight insanity with worse insanity," Shadow pointed out.

"I suspect if I say a hard no you'll start suggesting we convince them with demons," Elias grumped.

"Choice. Spirit." Shadow corrected.

Elias laughed harder than she had in the last forty-eight hours. "Okay. Yes. Preferable to 'Choice Spirits'. I have found something more distasteful than being the Herald of Andraste, so help me."

Shadow screamed.

Cassandra drew her sword and had her shield raised before her next foot hit the ground. Solas immediately shielded everyone, before turning around and slamming his staff into the ground in preparation for his next spell. Varric had Bianca loaded and out, a twitch away from firing.

Elias sighed. “”It’s just a bug guys, it’s cool,” she said calmly, as if a Dalish First screamed bloody murder over insects all the time.


	10. Misunderstandings

Elias was relieved that her companions all took seriously the effort to apprehend the mage and templar rebels alive. Cassandra attempted to subdue their enemies with overwhelming force so that Varric could restrain them. When that failed, as it did repeatedly, usually just as Varric was getting ready to proclaim success, Shadow and Solas attempted to stun them into submission or unconsciousness.  
But over and over again the smallest of errors and miscalculations spelled death to their enemies. Especially since they usually targeted Elias, with the glowing hand and tendency to lead the charge, and nobody but Elias was willing to let her get hurt.  
After five short, sharp battles, they managed to take one scrawny elven mage alive. Mostly by virtue of the fact that the templar’s attack had knocked him out shortly before Elias interfered in the battle. The boy didn't look old enough to have been through his Harrowing, much less fight battles. Still, Varric tied him up firmly, rope on top of the magic-restraining cuffs, and Solas tossed the boy’s staff over his shoulder alongside his own. Scout Harding carefully set up a tent out of accidental-fire-distance from the rest of the encampment, while Cassandra explained to how to transport him to Haven without getting anyone injured.  
Next to the tent, Shadow healed most of the boy’s readily apparent injuries and brought him back to consciousness, Elias assumed to check for brain trauma, but then Shadow whispered something in his ear that made him pale. She thought it best not to ask why Shadow felt the need rouse the boy only to, presumably, threaten him. That way, she didn't have to get mad.  
When Shadow left the boy’s side and got herself a mug of rehydrated stew, Elias learned that Cassandra had not yet learned the delicate art of Not Asking what Shadow Was Up To. "What in Andraste's name did you tell the boy?"  
"Hmm? Oh, mostly just that the Dread Wolf had his scent, and if he did anything so foolish again I would send the Dread Wolf after him. Also, I recommended he not attack the Herald of Andraste again. Divine retribution.”  
Elias choked.  
"And that worked?" Varric asked.  
"The Dalish alone are practically a myth to city elves. Plus the kid is young and impressionable. He seems to have believed me,” Shadow said lightly, blowing on her soup. As if threatening the wrath of the gods, literally, was a normal and everyday thing.  
Elias was slightly more concerned about being called the Herald of Andraste on purpose. She was never going to get that damn rumor to go away at this rate. "You shouldn't have lied to him," Cassandra said.  
Shadow lowered her mug and stared. “Are you… joking? Isn’t the ‘Herald of Andraste’ bit the Inquisition’s main assertion at this point? How we’re justifying like, half of what we do?”  
“I meant about the Dalish Gods,” Cassandra clarified. “You shouldn’t impose your beliefs on others.”  
Shadow laughed. It was the laugh of someone too angry to yell. “That’s hilarious, Cass; knew you had a wicked sense of humor under all that armor.”  
“I wasn’t jo-"  
"What do you know of my gods? Do you even know their names? How presumptuous." Shadow looked at Cassandra steadily, and Elias got the feeling she was trying very hard not to look at Solas. “It may shock you to hear it, but my gods are real whether you like it or not, and as for ‘imposing’…”  
Shadow took a deep breath. “The child obviously doesn’t fear templars, or death, or anything else your chantry has had to offer. If telling him how much the Dread Wolf despises foolishness is an imposition, then so be it, as long as it keeps the small idiot alive.”  
Elias snuck a glance at Solas; he was standing stiffly.  
They made their way into the Crossroads proper with their silent streak renewed. Shadow, Solas, and Varric began assessing the immediate damage to people and property. Cassandra and Elias talked to Mother Giselle. Elias liked Mother Giselle, for the most part. But she also felt like everything the woman had to say could have been communicated via letter. By the time Elias returned from her short and vaguely frustrating talk, Shadow was still in the process of trying to heal almost everyone in sight; Solas was roughly repairing damage to walls, roofs, and fences by magically lifting things into their former places, and Varric was collecting gossip.  
The man Shadow was currently assisting was wailing and writhing on the ground, holding his arm close to his body as Shadow’s hand manipulated a glowing blue stream of energy over and through it.  
"Right, yes," Shadow said when she noticed Elias was back. "Do we have any painkillers? I'm losing the concentration to keep him numb while I heal."  
While Cassandra went to look into supplies, to see if there were, indeed, any painkillers remaining whatsoever, Elias scanned their perimeter. It had looked safe enough, but it was habit. Her eyes lingered for an uncomfortably long time on the refugees milling around the Crossroads: the injured and sick, the elderly and small children, elves that tried to hug the corners and shadows as if it would keep them from being noticed. It was what she had been expecting, but the sheer reality of it was still like being punched in the gut.  
“Shadow,” Elias asked hesitantly, managing with great effort to tear her eyes off a particularly young girl who must be freezing, considering the rags that clung to her small frame. “How would you feel about staying here while I went to get the horses?”  
Shadow stood up, shaking feeling back into her hands. Silence stretched between them as Shadow looked at the other injured people, huddled against the sides of buildings or next to bodies that lay unnaturally still. Elias imagined Shadow was trying to come up with a tactful, non-offensive way to laugh in her face and say “not bloody likely.”  
“Just hear me out,” Elias continued before Shadow could say anything. Long experience informed her that Shadow might not, actually, ever come up with something approaching tactful. “You’re a healer, and there are a lot of people here that really need our help. And honestly, it doesn’t take ALL of us to go get the horses. It’s what, a half day away, at most? I could leave for a bit with Cassandra and Varric and be back before—“  
“Well, that sounds like a terrible idea,” Shadow interrupted with a laugh. She knelt next to another injured person, a woman with blood crusted in her hair and one side of her dress.  
Elias adjusted her clothing as a way to buy time and avoid direct eye contact, eventually focusing her gaze on the woman with the head wound Shadow was trying to heal.  
“And to be honest, I’m not super comfortable with it,” Shadow said, breaking the long second silence.  
“Well, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Elias admitted. “But this place is a mess, and I know you can’t stay here forever, but I do think you’d do more good here than wandering around the countryside with us.” Elias wasn’t dumb enough to utter aloud the last half of that sentence: and you’d be safer.  
Shadow, however, was having none of it.  
“Okay, wait, let me see if I am understanding you. You’re saying that leaving me here, alone, in the middle of an actual war zone, surrounded by humans that have been taught to mistrust elves, and especially Dalish elves, from birth, with no backup and no guard, is more convenient for me than going on a long walk across a few fields to pick up our rides.”  
Well, when you put it like that.  
“Where is this even coming from, anyway?” Shadow asked. “I thought we had Plans.”  
“I guess I just . . .” Elias gestured around her at the masses of injured and hungry people, easily dozens more than had been explicitly shown in the game, and sighed. “I guess I just thought that you’d do more good here.”  
“Well then, it sure is a good thing the horses are only half a day away!” Shadow echoed brightly, and Elias knew she had lost. “We’ll be back in plenty of time to help these people!”  
Elias suspected she knew what was behind the bright grin. And if you think for an instant I’m going to let you traipse across half the countryside with the largest magical target painted on your hand in the history of Thedas, without me, you are sorely mistaken. Please do try to convince me otherwise. I haven’t had a good argument in well over an hour.  
Elias, who had spent the better part of her life intentionally not prying into things unsaid to avoid arguments, sighed. She should have known that this avenue was going to be met with resistance. So instead of protesting she knelt down, attempting to make the concussed woman Shadow had moved onto more comfortable.  
And just like that, it had been decided. Shadow would not stay at the Crossroads.  
* * *  
Shadow realized that despite her best efforts, she had ended up starting an argument. She really hadn’t meant to this time, but there she was, talking faster than her mind could follow, and there Solas was, being infuriating, and there under their feet was a ruin that was almost certainly an old elven ruin. And there not being an Elias around to keep her in check with a distraction or pointedly kind rephrasing, Shadow’s mouth just… kept moving.  
But really, regardless of anything else, Solas keeping his historical knowledge to himself was a damn shame, and being a hobo elf should not excuse him. This was just common sense. So, she had told him as much, and when he protested that an apostate elf had no way of spreading his knowledge, she had explained some of the ways she had thought of that he could publish works with a veneer of legitimacy. She had had many months of angst-fueled meta consumption before meeting Solas, and so she’d come up with all sorts of plans to restore elven knowledge without reshaping the entire world. And it was Important that someone tell Solas.  
“And how does what I might or might not publish under an assumed name have any bearing on keeping the world safe?” Solas asked quizzically.  
“Well, obviously, propaganda,” Shadow said brightly. “Keep up.”  
“Why,” Solas said in a long-suffering tone, “Would I have need of propaganda?”  
“Because obviously?” Shadow said. “Because obvious reasons? I feel like at this point you’d actually, like, come up with a reason for yourself. This seems like an unrealistic turn. Also, I feel like this is the point in the conversation where Elias begins loudly asking Varric for stories about Hawke. Where is Elias, anyway?” Shadow looked around the ruin. She didn’t recognize it; long elven arches overlooked a valley, and green and yellow leaves fluttered down softly, never seeming to quite reach the ground.  
Solas sighed. “Is it necessary for you to include her in every conversation? Do you maintain no thoughts of your own?”  
“Those are, uh, sort of the problem,” Shadow said flatly. “I think things, and then I say things, and then next thing I know there’s an army and little old ladies are taking arms to defend me, which is just… Oh.” Shadow looked at the leaves, disappearing shortly before landing. “I’m dreaming.”  
Solas looked caught between wanting to continue arguing over Shadow’s co-dependence on Elias, and addressing the ‘arming old ladies’ issue. Shadow wasn’t sure what she had been referencing, herself, and was girding herself to admit it rather than try to figure out her own dream-tangled thoughts.  
“You are,” Solas confirmed instead. Was he smiling?  
It was hard to compare this Solas in front of her to the Solas in the game, or even the Solas she saw day in and day out on the road. She thought that perhaps his eyes were smiling. But why?  
“Are you actual Solas?” She asked. She realized how ridiculous the question was as soon as she asked it- how could he prove it one way or another? She trudged on regardless. “Or a spirit? Or, okay, it’d be kind of ironic and hilarious if you were a pride demon. Because, ‘Solas’”.  
Apparently that joke wasn’t particularly amusing. “Does it matter?”  
It really, really did. But there was no good way to explain that without explaining that she planned to thwart his plans to destroy the world, and thus was uncomfortable talking to him without Elias to keep her in check.  
“Well, I kind of decided not to talk with you about elfy stuff. Or Dalish stuff. Or cultural imperialism. So it would be much easier to pick a conversational topic if I knew my limitations.”  
“Why limit yourself?”  
It was a simple enough question. Shadow looked once more at the leaves, not quite finishing their journey. “I didn’t expect dreaming like this to be. . . I didn’t expect it to be so easy. I’m awake, but I’m asleep,” she mused. “So it’s basically just an intentional consciousness change.”  
“You speak as if that is easy,” Solas said.  
“Sure, why not?” Shadow asked. “Pick a different religion each day of the week, change your favorite foods, change your beliefs. Sure, anything possible on a temporary basis.”  
“Most could not do that,” Solas said.  
“Most don’t probably try,” Shadow said. “I feel drunk. Is that normal?”  
“Some experience a loss of inhibition, yes,” Solas answered.  
“Oh,” Shadow said. “So I feel like. Like you should maybe have, um. Asked first. Before being in my dream.”  
Solas’ eyes were smiling, though his mouth restrained itself. “Are you sure you’re not in mine?”  
Shadow shrugged. “You’re the Dreamer, capital D. It seems unlikely that’d be me, too.”  
“You believe me to be a dreamer?” Solas asked. “What do you know of Dreamers, that makes you think so?”  
“Uh, there was one in Kirkwall,” Shadow said easily. “Half elf dude. I think Elias- the Kirkwall Elias. Hawke. Moved him into Merril’s clan. Um, they can see people’s dreams. Kill in them, I think. I never found out if Felassan was one, but he had to use herbs, so my guess is not? But what I do I know. Maybe that’s just. Augmentative.”  
“Felassan?” Solas asked curiously.  
Shadow shrugged again. “Slow arrow. Uh, what’s her name. Bellassan? No. Briala. Briala’s friend.”  
“That’s a great deal of knowledge for a First to possess,” Solas noted neutrally.  
Shadow blinked. “This is an . . . altered state of consciousness. Rude. You’re rude,” she said.  
“Oh?”  
“You can’t just barge into my dreams. That’s like slipping me a roofie. Uh. Drinking. Making me drink. Taking advantage,” Shadow insisted. “That’s not okay. You can’t.”  
The ground around her shimmered slightly.  
“Calm yourself,” Solas advised. “Becoming agitated may attract demons.”  
“Your face might attract demons,” Shadow said.  
The corners of Solas’ mouth visibly twitched.  
Shadow relaxed slightly, and the fade around them settled. “So, pajama-elf. You must really love getting lectures on Dalish Culture,” she said.  
“Or,” he retorted, “You love giving them so much you do it even in your sleep.”  
“You’re the Dreamer,” Shadow said. “Of the two of us, you’re the one that can walk away.”  
“Not true. Anyone can learn to walk the fade at will- or, anyone that can dream, at least,” Solas said.  
“That just seems… unlikely,” Shadow said. “Not that I’m saying you’re not an expert on the fade, because obviously you are, but epidemiologically it doesn’t seem to be happening. I mean, I could see the repression under the Chantry with the humans and city elves, okay, but what about the Dalish, or people on the outskirts of the Chantry? Or Tevinter, I suppose, it seems like they’d use it as a weapon.”  
“I suppose,” Solas said thoughtfully, “that for many of them, their pre-conceptions of what the fade is or should be get in the way. They are used to thinking they cannot, and thus are unable to.”  
“That’s idiotic,” Shadow said. “That’s boring, and useless, and people could have done all sorts of- messages, you know? How many ravens? Just stupid.”  
“I tend to agree,” Solas said.  
Shadow flopped on the ground, as if her body was heavy. “I feel so drunk, Solas. I don’t want to feel drunk anymore.”  
Solas sat next to her with considerably more grace. “There is little that can be done immediately, but should you continue consciously directing your dreams, you will gain more control over yourself. Though I understand that is of little consolation at the moment.”  
* * *  
Elias awoke on her own many hours later. The sky was just beginning to lighten; Cassandra, Varric, and even Solas were already awake, eating breakfast around a fire outside the healer's hut.  
"I see the trick to getting you up on time is putting you to bed in the afternoon," Varric remarked as Elias emerged from the darkness of her hut.  
"Well, you're not wrong," Elias yawned. "Shadow's still asleep?"  
"Chuckles here put up some special anti-bug wards," Varric said. "I don't think she's slept so deeply since I've known her; didn't put up a shield in her sleep even once."  
"Perfect," Elias said. "Thanks, Solas. I'm sure she appreciated it."  
"Of course," Solas said.  
Elias gave herself a few minutes to properly shake the grogginess from her eyes and then went to wake up Shadow. She hated waking people up, but it wasn’t like she could tie her friend into a sleeping roll and carry her all the way to the horsemaster.  
The darkened hut was invitingly warm, and Elias momentarily wished that her task involved lying back down instead of awakening her friend for a miserable trek across the wilderness. She sighed at her extreme misfortune and shook her friend’s shoulder lightly.  
“Shadow? Shadow, it’s time. You should probably get up and come join us for breakfast, we’ll be leaving shortly.”  
Shadow turned over and muttered something that Elias thought would probably have been rather impolite if she'd been paying closer attention. Elias tried again, shaking her carefully.  
“I’m not thrilled either, but Cassandra said it’d be best to leave before the sun was fully up—“  
Shadow curled up into a ball and pulled her cloak over her face. “Your Mom leaves before the sun is fully up.”  
It was difficult to bite back a giggle, but Elias somehow managed it. “Yeah I agree, it’s some bullshit, but we should probably—“  
“You should probably,” Shadow continued in the same tone, somehow managing to huddle into an even smaller ball.  
Elias stopped and considered. Was that . . . intentional?  
“Did you . . . did you reconsider? Do you want to stay here after all while we get this done real quick? I mean that’s perfectly fine, you can of course do that, you healed for hours and you’re probably exhausted--”  
“So tired,” Shadow confirmed dreamily. “Stay here. Warm. No bugs.”  
“You sure?”  
“Mm-hm.”  
A very slight muffling sound, and the evenness with which the gray lump on the cot once again rose and fell rhythmically, told her that her friend had officially fallen back to sleep. Elias exited the hut and announced that Shadow was staying behind to finish the tasks that needed to be done.  
It had been decided: Shadow would be staying at the Crossroads.  
* * *  
"How," Shadow said the next morning as she stomped down the steep path from the forward camp to the crossroads, "fucking dare? Leave me? Alone??? With a bunch of humans???? Who????? Fucking???!? Hate me????????"  
The first thing Shadow felt when she realized she had been left alone was fear. The sort of visceral, hobbling fear that she hadn't felt since they'd first fallen into Thedas and the mark had been killing Elias. And then Shadow felt a sort of blinding rage. It was bad enough Elias had gone frolicking about the hills without someone to keep her from getting herself killed. But to take the dread fucking wolf with her? And not even giving Shadow a chance to protest, or mention he had been TALKING TO HER IN HER DREAMS, if that even was him. The sheer level of foolishness and lack of consideration for her feelings or even physical welfare…  
It turned out that rage was an effective motivator. Shadow had killed enough animals to feed the village before the dew had completely melted.  
"Feed your fucking children," she said, dropping the ram heavily. How had she managed to get a lucid dream so soon? It had taken her months to remember her dreams in her own world.  
She'd established a modicum of safety procedures, including things like washing hands before changing bandages, before noon. "And if I catch ANY. OF. YOU. Touching an open wound without pristine hands? So help me, I will burn your skin off and heal new skin so that it is, at least, clean.”  
Fuckity. She’d told Solas she knew Felassan.  
She'd found a cache of blankets and supplies before evening. "This is all I could find! If you do not share I swear by Elgarnan's giant balls I will sprout roots from the ground and MAKE YOU SHARE, am I understood?”  
Damn. She’d referred to the Dalish as if they weren’t her people.  
And before the stars had completely risen, she'd scared off a pack of bandits. "And so help me I will burn the entire forest if you even think about sniping at the villagers again! For Mythal's sake! There are children here!”  
Shit fuck damn. She’d told Solas he needed propaganda. How much more obvious was it that she knew who he was?  
All things considered she was, perhaps, a tad put-out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Edited and cowritten by SgtElias, who does not have an AO3 account]]
> 
> [[I can't believe people actually read this thing. Thank you!]]


	11. You Had ONE JOB

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LISTEN UP NAUGHTY READERS IT'S UPDATE TIME

 

Excerpt from a letter written by Varric Tethras:

 

Things Elias, Herald of Andraste, did instead of accomplishing her stated objectives:

Gathered fifteen bushels (yes, that is the correct increment) of elfroot. No, I don't know why she's so obsessed with it. I don't think she even knows how to use it. We had to show her how to harvest it. You know things are dire when I'm telling a Mage how to do magic shit.

Found a ring. (This is directly related to the next entry on the list.)

Killed fifteen Templars. (I know, you'd be proud. I'm starting to feel sorry for the poor bastards.)

Updated over 98% of the Inquisition's map of the north Hinterlands. (Again, related to the next item on the list.)

Uncovered the summoning spots of several local demons. (I bet you can guess what else happened.)

Killed several local demons. (Demon ick never gets more palatable; guess who packed some up so the Inquisition can "study" it?)

Made friends with a pack of wolves. (Yes, you read that right. No, my pen did not get stolen.) (Yes, I know the wolves out here are notoriously vicious.) (Yes, demons were involved, but I guarantee not the way you think.)

Found a secret Carta entrance to the Deep Roads. (Weirdly, the least hassle of everything on this list.)

Got an ancient spirit of Valor to give her a fancy enchanted sword that none of us can use. (I have no idea what to tell you about this one. Is this normal spirit behavior? Who knows? Chuckles was pretty useless on this, and the Seeker spent most of the afternoon making sure the sword wasn't possessed somehow.)

Accidentally killed a bunch of mages (but they were assholes, don't worry.)

Won a horse race. Thing. (I don't really get how horse stuff works. Honestly, I try to avoid them whenever possible. Nothing good comes of being that far off the ground.)

Stopped long enough for Chuckles to nap in no less than seven ancient ruins. (I can't decide if Daisy would love the man or smother him in his sleep. He's all about the ancient elves, which she'd love, but it's like the Dalish are small children to him. Very Glad Violet wasn't around to hear his pontification. There'd be even more renditions of- actually, that should be another item on the list.)

Made up, so far, five different songs about Friendship that she sings loudly at us when the Seeker is anti-social. (I, of course, am perfectly amiable and reasonable at all times. Or I would be if I could get a decent drink.) (One of the songs is called, I shit you not, "Friendship Is Magic".) (If this is what Andraste was like, I can see why she won. I actually preemptively apologized yesterday, to the Seeker. Yes, the seeker that kidnapped me, that Seeker, just so I didn't have to hear the Herald not-rhyme a new chorus.)

Got everyone's clothes sodding wet, multiple times, so she could pick massive amounts (I was too concerned with keeping Bianca dry to count) of . . . something? (When asked, she confessed she doesn't even know what specific potions it's for, but insists it will be "useful".)

Oh, and used the creepy glow in her hand to close several literal holes in the fade. I'm trying to figure out how to get her to Kirkwall and help Daisy out- it's a messy process, but effective.

In all of this, we did not actually manage to secure either a supply of horses for the Inquisition, nor convince the Horsemaster to join our romantically doomed cause. Though I suspect every other person in the Hinterlands now owes her personal loyalty.

Seriously, though, you two could be related.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes from Author Andraste:
> 
> Hi there! I wanted to introduce myself, as Author Shartan has officially added my name as co-author. I started out as the editor, but as I became more and more involved in this project (planning plots and also writing from time to time), Author Shartan asked if she could add my name here 
> 
> Thank you very much to everyone who is routinely reading this thing! I'm excited to be contributing regularly.


	12. How to Make Enemies and Threaten Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes accomplishing something isn't necessarily better than accomplishing nothing.

The next time she woke, Shadow immediately attempted to remember her dreams.

It had been a habit in her youth, to go through and dissect the meanings, decide what was symbolic and what was simply undigested fluff. She found that dreaming in Thedas required a different sort of skill than dreaming in her world, a sureness of self and intent more than a strict technique, and a willingness to adjust her preconceptions. After her gaff with Solas, she intended to practice until she was proficient. Or competent, at least.

It had been more than a week since she had been unceremoniously dumped at the Crossroads (“WE’LL BE BACK IN TWO DAYS SHADOW!” she wanted to scream into the Void), and she was still too upset with herself to even swear. She’d thought . . . well, in the game, the mark on their hand had given the Herald a portion of Solas’ Somniari abilities. Even a dwarf could, and did, dream, and find him… but Shadow didn’t have even a hint of green on her hand. It should have been considerably more difficult for her to lucid dream with any control or focus. Surely it _must_ be more difficult to control one’s dreams here. If it was as easy as in her world, it would make no sense for any mage to be out of control in their sleep.

And, she realized, as she milled about eating food and letting her limbs wake up on morning eight of her exile, she needed to find a way to talk to Elias. Alone. And she had no idea how to go about doing it. They needed to talk, and plan, because if she was going to be fade-drunkenly rambling at Solas all the things they knew, they were in serious trouble.

Not that he was likely to turn while there was still a Breach in the sky. But they had plans for after.

Shadow had no idea how to walk this back.

“Well, practice makes perfect,” she mumbled to no-one in particular between mouthfuls of a cold, semi-congealed breakfast.

 

* * *

 

She waited until evening to try it.  Truth be told, Shadow was fairly uncomfortable letting Elias traipse around and do all the work while Shadow sat pretty and healed up some refugees. But Shadow’s general plan of ‘stay at the Crossroads and keep pretending to be Dalish’ had revealed some pretty gaping holes after the first several days, that all hinged around the fact that she, in fact, was not actually Dalish. And other people had an idea of certain things the Dalish were supposed to be able to do. Like hunt, and skin, and carve up animals to eat and wear. Not that Shadow as completely unfamiliar with the theory, of course. She’d read hundreds of novels, and several had covered the process in what, at the time, she’d thought unnecessary levels of detail.

Now, Shadow was regretting not paying closer attention.

So Shadow slipped into a semi-sleep state, letting her eyes get used to the dim room, paying attention for the whispers of hypnagogic hallucinations that flickered into her mind on the edges of sleep.

And then she felt herself slip into the fade, standing up from her body and walking around the room she was in first, and then outside. Spirits were engaging in conversation with each other in mimicry of the human and elven refugees that had gathered in the crossroads, but Shadow could see the slight errors, now that she knew how to look. Places where the costumes didn’t quite overlap, showing glowing skin underneath; cracks between the rocks in the firepits that revealed flames that danced in more than just orange and red. The sky, as well, was different, the constellations both sharper and less distinct than they were in the actual Thedas sky.

She walked up to the closest spirit. “Excuse me, please,” she said. It didn’t appear to be talking, just listening to the conversation, and couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be a man or a woman. But short of other criteria, ‘closest’ seemed as good as any a place to start.

“You’re a mage,” the spirit said in surprise, mimicking the gruff voice of a man she’d healed earlier that day.

“And you’re a spirit,” Shadow agreed. “I wonder if you might be able to give me some directions?”

“What are you looking for?” A woman’s voice called behind her.

Shadow turned and saw a small blonde woman in what was unmistakably an Alice in Wonderland costume.

“Oh, that’s just. That’s perfect. Do you look like that to everyone, or just me?”

The woman smiled sharply. “To everyone, of course, but you’re the only one here who isn’t a spirit. Don’t worry. I won’t spill your secrets so easily,” she promised.

Shadow nodded, fighting off the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Alright. Um, that’s basically. What I’m hoping to figure out. How to not spill my secrets.”

“You don’t want Solas to find out,” the woman said.

“You know him,” Shadow said. It was not a question. “What kind of spirit are you?”

The woman’s grin grew sharper. “Purpose.”

Shadow nodded. “When twisted, Desire,” she said.

“Is that what you wish?” the woman asked, shadows flickering over her body as if to transform her dainty blue dress and white pinafore into something much less family-friendly.

“I wish to not die, and for my friends to not die either,” Shadow said after a moment.

“You wish for considerably more than that,” the woman said after a moment. “You’ve got a purpose strong enough to draw me here. You want to reshape the entire world.”

Shadow nodded again.

“And what will you give me in return for this help?” The woman asked delicately.

Shadow tilted her head. “Nothing. If you’re a spirit, you’ll help me because it fulfills you to do so.”

The spirit nodded as if to concede the point. “And if I’m not?”

Shadow thought. “Well, I could use friends,” she said. “I’m willing to offer my friendship. If you help me play my cards right, that might be worth something, later.”

“It’s already worth quite a bit,” the spirit said. “The secrets unguarded in your mind alone…”

Shadow would have felt the blood drain from her face, if she’d had an actual face or blood to drain from it. “Those can’t get out. Mine, or Elias’,” she said.

The spirit folded her arms as if in thought. “The Herald’s mind is guarded quite well by the Mark she bears. You need not worry about that. I believe her dreams are guarded, as well, by the amplification of her will the mark will provide.”

“That’s something, at least,” Shadow said. “But that still leaves my mind, which contains much the same thing.”

The spirit looked at Shadow’s face as if she was looking through her, but it wasn’t the threatening glance she’d given her a few moments ago. “I will safeguard your mind,” she decided. “I would not see something such as you thwarted so quickly. I will require something in return, however.”

“What?” Shadow said, a bit more brusquely than she intended.

“Nothing, I suspect, that you would not do on your own, had you thought to,” the spirit said. “I would ask that you make the Herald close the tears in the veil more quickly.”

“What?” Shadow said again, in weak confusion.

“It’s getting quite tiresome, trying to find mortals to latch onto long enough to stay away from the vortexes the veils cause,” the spirit said. “I don’t particularly desire to become another mindless, gibbering beast feeding on mortal flesh. And your Herald… well. For the moment, her purpose seems to be threading in too many directions to be useful to me, even if I was able to easily approach her. I will protect your mind so you can carry out your purpose, you will give the Herald more purpose where I cannot. And in the process, I will continue to exist. I think this is a fair bargain all around, don’t you?”

Shadow woke up a moment later feeling as though she had spun around very quickly, and quite sure she hadn’t actually officially agreed to anything. Still, if the spirit was able to do what it claimed… Shadow would simply have to have a few words with Elias about a slight shift in priorities.

If she ever bothered to come back from whatever bloody side-quest she’d no doubt embarked on.

 

* * *

  

There weren't a lot of fences in Thedas, Shadow noted the next morning after she had shaken the fade-visions from her mind; stones here and there that presumably notated boundaries, and roads and streams and the occasional ancient pile of stones. She ignored them all.  
  
It wasn't like she'd brought a map, or planned to stay around and negotiate this long. It was terrifying enough to be walking around through the middle of a war by herself. She skirted around the edges of fields when she could, and tried to listen to the echoes of magic against the veil when possible. Both the Templars and the Mages made it ring, almost, with resonance.   
  
And so she spent another day taking almost-rotted produce from abandoned huts when she found it, and raided caches of blankets and other supplies. It was thankless work, the people at the Crossroads half-assuming she somehow meant them harm by healing their wounds and feeding their stomachs, but she had magic and they didn't. So she did what they didn't dare.   
  
Which would have been fine, most likely, if she had wandered off when she was done, rather than return every night to the cabin Solas had reinforced with anti-vermin wards.

Or if, when asked by a man in armor what she was doing, she didn't berate him for frolicking about instead of keeping people from dying. 

“I beg your pardon?” he spluttered out indignantly, blood rising to his cheeks. “I’ll have you know, elf—“

“Am I wrong?” Shadow interrupted, completely unsuccessful at keeping her eyes from rolling. “I mean if you could have been, oh, feeding and clothing these people? Finding them blankets? Firewood? Seeing to their wounds? Recruiting even _one_ more fucking competent healer, instead of . . . ? I mean if you _have_ been doing something other than sit on your ass—“

The man made a noise in the back of his throat that might have been furious indignation, opened his mouth to argue, thought better of it, and instead stormed off muttering under his breath.

“There’s still plenty to do, you gorram idiot!” Shadow yelled at the man’s retreating back. “And while you’re running around being useless, tell your lazy-ass ruler to see to his people, or I will!”

In hindsight, she realized later, she probably should have phrased that differently.  
  
Possibly, she had this conversation, or a version of it, with multiple people. Shadow had a bit of a temper at the best of times, and lugging an enormous beast behind her to a village full of people who would check for poison when they thought she wasn't looking didn't help her mood.   
  
So she probably shouldn't have been surprised when the next afternoon, after returning from a particularly unsuccessful foraging attempt, a young man in ill-fitting chainmail stood formally on the outskirts of the Crossroads and commanded her to stop in the name of some local ruler she'd never heard of.   
  
She probably should have told him to send his complaints to Josephine, hindsight again informed her, but she ceased her activity and asked instead why “someone of sound body was gallivanting around bossing elves around instead of making sure the harvest was taken in.” 

Unfortunately for the man in chainmail, the wind was blowing in the wrong direction, and in his effort to formally yell missives at her, Shadow could only make out every few words of what he was saying.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU,” Shadow yelled after every new charge, but the man did not move, nor raise his voice.

She caught something about “moving in” and “bandits” and “her territory,” and it stuck her that perhaps she shouldn't have told the bandits she chased away several days back with showy but ultimately toothless magic that the Crossroads were not theirs to take.

Shadow could feel her temper rising as the idiot in the armor continued to state his list of complaints at her, with seemingly no concern whether or not she actually heard the plethora of things with which she was being charged.

“Since I CAN’T HEAR YOU,” Shadow continued for what felt like the fiftieth time, “I’m just going to ASSUME you’re thanking me for chasing off those bandits, which was your bloody job to begin with.”

Shadow was fairly certain that was not what the man was saying whatsoever, but he also didn’t bother to correct her.

 “Are you listening to me?” Shadow asked, closing the distance between them as the man continued to ignore her. “You know, you really should ensure that the person you’re speaking with can actually make out what you’re saying? A less friendly apostate might be inclined to, for instance, hit you with a bolt of lightning for being obnoxious and refusing to go away while they have sodding work to do.”

He continued reading off her list of offenses as if she had not spoken. 

It seemed that the local Banns had interpreted her words, passed through the grapevine and distorted as they were, as some sort of claim. To their territory. And it also seemed, as perhaps shouldn't be surprising to those who know the hearts of men, that the bandits were ashamed to admit they had been beaten off by one diminutive elven woman, and claimed an entire clan had moved in. 

“With these charges brought against you, it is in your own best interest to submit yourself for trial. Should you be found innocent, you will be released back to your clan and escorted to the Ferelden border, where you will be free to go.”

Several possible responses sprang instantaneously to Shadow’s mind. “What the actual fuck” “eat shit and die” and “you have got to be fucking kidding me” among them, but she recognized at this point that perhaps she should choose her next words with a modicum of care.

“I’m going to use small words, here,” Shadow said conversationally. Someone who didn’t know her might interpret it as condescension.

They would be right, of course. The soldier held his breath and his eyes went wide, but he did not interrupt.

“I’m sure you haven’t noticed, what with how busy you’ve been doing absolutely nothing for these people, but I have a prior commitment. To the Inquisition, and to these refugees that no one else seems to be bothering with. I’m not coming with you, not now, and besides, what would possess me to leave? A DALISH ELF is going to be treated justly in your criminal justice system? I think fucking not.”

The younger man released the breath he was holding, but his eyes remained comically wide. Shadow noticed that for the first time he looked completely unsure of himself, but he did not draw his sword, nor try to keep convincing her that she should come with him.  That was something, at least. He licked his lips and attempted a response.

“Please, Ser, I don’t think that’s the message you want to take back to Bann—“

“Did I stutter?” Shadow asked, exasperated. “Well, I don’t have the patience for something else. Help or leave.”

He seemed more than relieved to oblige, nodding to her once to make sure the niceties were observed before immediately retreating at a pace that was carefully not-running.

Shadow fumed for at least two hours after the man’s departure, but by the time she went back to her wonderfully bug-free sanctuary for another night alone, she had almost completely put the incident from her mind.  
  
And so it was that the next morning, rather than waking up from the sound of villagers making more noise than should be legal before dawn, she woke up to the sound of shouting.   
  
And two armies, in livery and unfurled flags, sitting on either side of the village, leaders on horseback and yelling at a beleaguered looking head of the Inquisition's local forces.   
  
Asking for "that blighted elf".   
  
Shadow thought that, all things considered, they probably meant her. 

 

* * *

 

"This had better be fucking good," Shadow opened. "I have a lot of shit to do because you assholes are shining livery instead of actually, you know, helping your constituents."  
  
There were probably better opening lines.   
  
“Surrender, and you may be shown mercy at your trial," an older man said. He was not the unfortunate, fresh-faced recruit they had sent to her yesterday.  
  
"Are you? Fucking? Kidding me?" Shadow replied calmly.   
  
"We have been more than accommodating, but I will not ask again," he said.   
  
"For fucking what? I've literally been working my ass off? Doing your job? Surrender. Not fucking likely."  
  
"You and your clan are surrounded," he continued.   
  
Shadow's laugh just about echoed off the hills.   
  
"Pro tip," she said. "You're wasting your time. Seriously, you didn't actually come down here to-"  
  
"I'm trying to be merciful here," the man said.   
  
"Okay. Right," Shadow said. "First off, you can't actually get to my clan, I don't even know why you would think that's a thing. Stop pretending it’s a thing. Second, I'm part of a group that's literally? Saving the world? I don't have time for this. Third, fuck you, I have actual work to do."  
  
The man unsheathed his sword.   
  
Shadow pulled out her staff and shielded herself. She'd gotten lots and lots of practice while killing small and large animals.   
  
"Look around you! You are outnumbered a hundred to one!"  
  
Shadow shrugged. "And yet, you look frightened. What, afraid of a Dalish Mage?"  
  
"I could ram you through before you could speak the words for a spell, elf," the man said.   
  
"Uh, I don't know if you noticed, but I put up a shield. I'm surprisingly good at those. Plus I'm a healer. So, uh, no, that wouldn't work well for you."  
  
"All mages run out of mana eventually," he said. His sword wasn't steady, however, so Shadow continued.   
  
"Actually, that's not precisely true," she said. "The interesting thing about blood  
magic is that, if one uses the blood of others and not oneself, it's theoretically infinite. One could go through a whole army using the blood of the fallen to kill the next-"  
  
The man sheathed his sword and promptly turned back to his army. The inquisition scout nearest, no doubt having heard the entire exchange, stared at Shadow, stunned.  
  
Shadow blinked. "What? It's not like I actually know how to do it--"  
  
He shook his head.   
  
"He was just wrong about how mana works," Shadow emphasized.   
  
The color had completely drained from the scout’s face. "I have to send a bird," he said. "This is not going to end well."  
  
Shadow wasn't sure the man was wrong, so she didn't try to cheer him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few quick notes from Author Andraste:
> 
> "gorram" - a swear word used in Joss Whedon's Firefly series, to replace "god damn."
> 
> It's important to note, that Shadow would not actually DO any of the things she's threatening (use blood magic to defeat an entire army, shoot someone with lightning to get them to cease annoying her, etc) . . . probably. Most of her suggestions are academic. And if they come off as threats? Well, that's an unfortunate side effect. 
> 
> Thank you very much for reading!


	13. Sarcastic Fantastic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much for your patience! We've been working on this chapter for sooooo long, so thanks for sticking with us!

"Andraste's flaming sword!” Even across the clearing, Cassandra’s swear run through the clear morning air like a bell. 

Elias felt someone looking at her, and glanced over to Solas, whose gaze was fixed upon Cassandra. Still. She could have sworn she felt his gaze on her face a moment before. So either she was being extra paranoid, or he was reading her. Fantastic.

Wait, could he hear what they were talking about? Could he see Cassandra's expression? Elias wasn't sure. She didn't remember her lore enough to know if elven eyes could see farther than human eyes, or elven ears hear better than human ears, like they could in Lord of the Rings. She suspected that the answer was no, but even if it was, would Solas, as an ancient elf, be subject to the same physical limitations of current elves? He would, wouldn't he? Wouldn't Solas' only difference be that he was . . . well, old as balls? And if that was true--

Cassandra strode forward and thrust the fat stack of papers at Elias.

“Read it,” she barked.

"I--," Elias spluttered, extremely disinterested in having Cassandra’s ire turned toward her. Cassandra was actually pacing from side to side in agitation.

In an official looking script was the following:

 

**A Formal List of Charges of one Shadow Lavellan, Dalish Apostate and Inquisition Conspirator :**

Apostasy

Conspiracy to commit blood magic

Blasphemy most foul, which shall not be repeated here

Defamation of no less than six respectable arls and arlessas

Inciting rebellion among the elven population of the Crossroads

Seizure of holdings in the arling of Redcliffe, belonging to Arl of Redcliffe Teagan Guerrin

Trespassing

Endangerment of the lawful citizens of Redcliffe

Poaching

Theft of property and resources

Acts of aggression leading to war

Conspiracy to commit the crimes listed above

Treason

 

There were several more pages, describing specific incidents that Elias doubted very much had actually taken place (hoped very much had not actually taken place), along with the details of a formal trial.

"It seems your friend has been busy," Solas said lightly.

"No one can do this much in a week!" Varric insisted. "Even I can't piss off that many people all at once! This must be some sort of--"

"A week?" Elias yelped. 

Varric stopped speaking and exchanged a worried glance with Cassandra, which Elias missed as she continued thumbing through the parchment.

"Herald, sometimes you're so much like Hawke I can't believe it," Varric muttered to himself. "'We've only been on the Wounded Coast for a day or two Varric, stop complaining, Varric . . .'" 

"Eight days," Cassandra said tersely. "We left your friend eight days ago. Surely you knew. . . ?"

"Jesus  _Christ_." 

Elias felt herself running to her steed. The horse was a chestnut mare she had only received yesterday and had little idea how to ride. She dithered a moment over the merits of leaving the saddle off the horse before departing, finally deciding it was worth the extra effort if it kept her from falling repeatedly and losing even more time in the long run.

“Elias!" someone shouted.

She looked up, startled; Elias had entirely forgotten about her companions, who by now had caught up with her and were wearing looks of undisguised alarm.

"I have to get over there," she muttered, throwing the saddle over the horse.

Cassandra made a noise. "It's backward," she said.

Elias blinked, then unceremoniously dropped the saddle where she stood. Perhaps this had all been some sort of huge misunderstanding? Maybe she'd get to the Crossroads and ask for a status update and it would have been some ploy to get her to come back? Maybe the nobles of these parts had just had a particularly bad few days and decided to pass the time with some good-natured dick-waving?

Someone stepped directly in front of her body and grabbed her. Elias realized it was Varric who had a death grip on her shoulders and was nearly shaking her.

"--even know if you're going the right way?" he was asking her desperately. Elias' face went blank as she stared at him. She had been walking? How long had he been speaking to her, exactly?

"I--" she began, but Varric had released her, so she didn't bother to finish the thought, just moved her body to continue her trek.

"Stop stop stop!" Varric yelled. 

Elias stopped.

"Alright," he said, sounding relieved. "Alright, just. Just stop moving for a minute. She's not going to die in the next ten seconds."

If Elias hadn't lost the letter she would have thrown it into the air.

"They could have  _executed her already_!" she yelled, her voice raising two octaves as she failed to keep control of herself. "I don't know if anyone pays attention to how DALISH ELVES are treated in human settlements, but the fact they didn't just cut her head off as a deterrent is some minor miracle already!"

"But they haven't," Varric said in his most reassuring tone. "They went to all that trouble to write her crimes on that fancy paper and send it to us, so we have until her trial date, at least. Unless she does something else, or makes the situation worse.  _Is_  that likely? Is there a worse, here?"

"Look, you can't just run off," Varric continued as Elias buried her head in her hands. "Did you even remember your staff?"

She had not. 

"I don't think I'll need it."

" _You don't think you'll need it_? Andraste's ass, what are you expecting to do once you get there?"

"Talk. Explain. I don't know. This isn't Orlais, I'm sure if I just explain--"

"I doubt very much you will be able to talk your way out of this." Cassandra was carrying at least three packs and holding Elias' staff in her arms. She pushed the weapon toward Elias. "Did it not occur to you to take this with you?"

"Why is everyone so obsessed with my staff?" Elias snapped, accepting the weapon. "Okay, I  _have my staff_ , I have eaten breakfast, all of my clothing is upon my body, and I am well-hydrated. I am now  _departing for the Crossroads_. Anyone that would like to accompany me is welcome to do so, but I am leaving  _now_.”

Her companions debated the merits of their options, but not the direction Elias walked, so she said nothing more. Her mind was too busy working.

* * *

 

Elias had expected the hustle and bustle of the Crossroads from the game, but what was laid out before her was . . . something else entirely.

"What are . . . why are there . . . WHERE DID ALL THESE SOLDIERS COME FROM?"

The tiny village was surrounded on three sides by three different armies. The smallest, and nearest, a contingent of Inquisition scouts and soldiers who were mostly milling about wringing their hands, seemed positively ecstatic to see them approach. They were saluted immediately, but Elias quickly silenced them with a gesture.

"What in the fuck," she said, not bothering to mince words, "are all these people doing here?"

The young woman Elias was addressing bit her lip and looked at Cassandra. Elias restrained herself from yelling with enormous difficulty. In the GAME, people actually listened to the person forced to be the Herald of Andraste.

"Answer her," Cassandra commanded. 

The scout swallowed. "Things here have . . . deteriorated rapidly. Arl Teagan is in Denerim, and with the mages in Redcliffe and his lands undefended . . . well, the soldiers are restless. So after the charges were brought against your companion and she refused to surrender--"

Cassandra looked shocked. "She refused to surrender?"

". . . she did," the scout confirmed, staring at the ground. "Word has it her exact words were 'you dirty humans will never take me alive.'"

"Shems," Elias corrected with a sigh.

"I'm sorry?"

"The word you're looking for is 'shems', but it doesn't matter, because that story is fabricated," Elias explained when the scout continued to stare, obviously confused. "As are most of the charges leveled against her, I'd wager. When the Dalish wish to insult humans, that's the word they use. So I'm fairly certain those _exact_  words have never left Shadow's mouth."

She hoped those words had never left Shadow's mouth.

_Gods please tell me those words have never left Shadow's mouth. In that particular order. In front of witnesses._

"That accounts for only two of the forces assembled," Solas pointed out neutrally. "Who is the last army? Whom do they serve?"

The young scout scoffed. "Locals, mostly. Farmers and stonemasons, craftsman, who didn't manage to escape ahead of the war. I think they got tired of no one doing anything for them and just . . . decided that a Dalish clan moving in was the last straw."

Elias laughed. "Only Shadow could inspire a group of people who should be sitting around campfires with their families, recovering from a literal war, to take up arms against her. "

Now that the scout had pointed it out, Elias couldn't believe she had missed it. The third force assembled, though by far the largest, was also by far the least supplied. Scruffy men and women stood together in groups of four to six, angrily eyeing her from across the way, dressed in dirty leathers and armed with pitchforks or hammers or sometimes nothing at all. One in every ten had a sword, and even fewer had decent armor to speak of.

Shadow had literally summoned a mob, pitchforks and all, in one week.

"How long have they been here?" Cassandra asked.

“About three days,” the scout said. “When we heard what your companion was being charged with, we sent word to Haven immediately. But with the war, and the snow in the mountain passes this time of year, and the ravens being. . . well, I’m just glad you lot showed up when you did.”

“Yeah, you and me, both,” Elias muttered.

By this point, Elias was mentally preparing a list. The how of the list was unimportant and she hadn’t given a great deal of thought to specifics, but the list went something like:

  * Make sure her oldest and best friend was (as yet) unharmed
  * Beg her oldest and best friend to say exactly zero (0) more words until after they had departed the Hinterlands (and perhaps not even then, they could hash out the details later)
  * Find out exactly what had been said, and in what tone (Shadow would hopefully not actually need to talk for this)
  * Apologize, whether or not either of them had actually done anything wrong
  * Convince three armies of idiots to stand down and go back to their lives. Elias was hoping this wouldn’t involve bribery but she wasn’t willing to rule it out.



She cleared her throat. “Alright, one more question and then I need to head in there and take care of this.”

Cassandra and Varric exchanged looks of alarm. 

“Are these people working together? Or are they keeping to themselves?”

The scout, who up until this point, Elias thought, had been fairly forthcoming, ceased speaking and stared at her. 

“I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

Elias rephrased. “I mean, are both of these groups taking their orders from the same person? Are they following the same leader? Who’s in charge of them?”

The young woman nodded toward the contingent of soldiers in their gleaming mail, banners unfurled.

“Well, as I said,  _those men answer to Bann Teagan_ ,” she repeated, adopting the tone one would use when explaining something to a small child. 

Elias ignored her. “And the other group? The citizens? They’re just following orders? Doing whatever Bann Teagan’s soldiers tell them to?”

The scout shifted her weight. “Well, no . . . “

“So then, Bann Teagan’s soldiers are not giving the militia orders? They’re following someone else?”

At her words, the other woman sighed. “Yes. The militia seems to be mostly keeping to themselves. About two days ago we witnessed one of Bann Teagan’s soldiers go into the encampment and stay for perhaps an hour, before stomping back to his own camp. Whatever they talked about, I doubt it went well.”

Elias smiled for the first time since reading the missive. “Well that’s fantastic. Best news you’ve given me yet. This is still totally salvageable!”

Cassandra’s face took on an unreadable expression, but if Elias had to guess, she’d have described it as “a mixture of disbelief and confusion that implied the Seeker thought she had temporarily gone deaf.”

“How is that . . .  _better_?” Cassandra finally managed incredulously. “At least if they were all under the same command, we could convince them all to abandon this foolish pursuit at the same time! As it is, I cannot see how it’s possible to convince two separate armies to--”

Elias held up her hands, and Cassandra stopped speaking. “Okay. I hear what you’re saying, but I have a question for you. Where is Bann Teagan?”

Varric snorted. “Not here.”

“Right, he’s in Denerim,” Elias confirmed. “And travel time to Denerim from here is, what, a week by horse, one way? Maybe slightly less?”

The scout nodded.

Elias crossed her arms and looked thoughtful. “I’m going to hazard a guess that Bann Teagan has no idea what’s going on here, and has, in fact, not been informed about any of this. So then, who is commanding his soldiers?”

Cassandra was by no means reassured. “Even if you’re correct, it is irrelevant, because that’s not how the Ferelden political system funct--”

“Yes yes, I know that’s not how it works here,” Elias interrupted again. “I’m well aware that if the people under his protection think Bann Teagan isn’t doing his job, they can replace him.” She paused for half a moment, hoping no one would think to question why a noble from the Free Marches would be this familiar with Ferelden politics. When several seconds passed and no one spoke, she continued. 

“So what we have are two groups of people. One, from what I can see, entirely made up of soldiers in Bann Teagan’s employ, under his banner, but not actually following his orders. I’m sure there are land owners among them, and a few knights, but they’re largely just that: soldiers. And the other group. . .” Elias held her hands up in front of her again, as if begging for her companion’s indulgence. “The other, I would guess, made up of small landowners, craftsman, and locals who are pissed as hell and decided to take a stand. And it’s them who we have to convince to leave.  _They_  are the real power in Ferelden. T _hey_  are the ones that decide who to pledge their allegiance to, and if we convince them that there is no Dalish clan vying for their already war-torn lands, I think getting the soldiers to leave, who aren’t even officially supposed to be here anyway, will be much easier.

Elias was at least 84% sure that her lore was sound. Well, 74%.

Cassandra nodded to show her understanding, but looked only slightly less grim. “That still leaves us the unenviable task of convincing several hundred people to lay down their weapons and surrender. In the middle of a war.”

Elias smiled. “Well as there’s no Dalish clan here, we’re in luck: we have the truth on our side.”

Varric snorted. “Since when has that mattered?”

“It matters,” Elias sighed, “because I’m hoping that if I walk in and wave my hand around and pretend to be the Herald of Andraste vouching for the mouthy elf who, I assume, has been helping them since we left, people will put the pitchforks down and go home. And the soldiers, not wanting to admit half these charges are fabricated, will pack up and go with them.”

Cassandra blinked. “But you . . .  _are_  the Herald of Andraste.”

Elias groaned. “Ugh, not so loud, plea-”

She was cut off mid-sentence by shouting, and the sound of many heavily-booted feet moving across the damp ground. The soldiers, all several hundred of them, were moving now, assembling in neat rows directly in front of the Crossroads. Even to her untrained eye, this was looking Very Bad Indeed, and Elias felt a cold sort of dread sink its way into her stomach.

“We are out of time,” Solas said, the apprehension in his tone doing nothing to calm her nerves. 

The leader of the assembled host was in front of his troops, but Elias could not hear at this distance what he was shouting to them. A rallying call, most likely. Dangerous times and dangerous elves and blood mages and all that sort of bullshit. 

“Okay, that is  _it_ ,” Elias said.

Varric blinked. “I’m sorry, what’s--”

Without another word, Elias unstrapped the staff from her back and dropped it roughly to the ground. Her feet carried her forward, step by step, stomping out into the clearing between the three assembled armies. As she neared the middle, the shouting slowly tapered off and was replaced with silence, the assembled hosts beholding the small, unarmed human who had stormed out into their midst and was standing there, waiting to be addressed.

Total silence reigned for a full minute. Elias stood alone in the clearing, having very little idea what words would come out of her mouth, some part of her mind fearful that the rage inside her would leak out. How dare these people. How dare they use their blatant racism as an excuse to treat Shadow so horribly? Shadow, who Elias would have bet her life, had spent the past week feeding and healing these people? She knew that Shadow must have said something that lead them here, but at this point, she did not care. No one deserved  _this_ , least of all her oldest and dearest friend.

“I take it I have everyone’s attention,” Elias heard herself begin. Her voice cut through the afternoon air like a knife, and she knew without being told that everyone could hear her, all eyes were upon her. She wasn’t sure if she had accidentally used some form of magic she did not understand to amplify her voice, or if her years of theater training were paying off.

A man in front of her and to her right shouted out, “It’s the Herald! The Herald of Andraste! The Herald has come to save us!”

Elias kept the grimace off her face by the barest skin of her teeth.

“I  _am_  the Herald of Andraste,” Elias said into the resulting murmurs. “And I have come to save you--from your own ridiculousness!” 

The murmuring now had a decidedly angry undertone, but Elias ignored it. If she stopped now, they were lost.

“I’ve read the charges against my friend--yes, my friend--and my only question is this--where are her conspirators? The charges mention an entire clan of Dalish elves, but I see no evidence of their presence. Where are they?”

The commander stood a little taller, once he realized that the question the Herald posed had been to him. “As I was saying before you marched out here, Herald, and had you been listening, you would know that they are here. In this very town!”

Elias nodded, a her face politely confused. “I see. But. Where?” Had anyone else said it, it would have sounded sarcastic, but from Elias’ mouth, it sounded warm, sincere, like honest confusion. 

It was not.

The man blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

The Herald smiled. “My apologies. But I mean--I’m looking with my own eyes, and I don’t see them. I don’t see anyone, really, except all of us, standing around here. You say that they’re in this town, but I can see the entirety of the town, and I guess I’m still missing where all the Dalish elves are.”

The older man stared at her as if he could not quite believe she was asking him this. His eyes flicked from her face to her left hand, as if needing to confirm for himself that this idiot of a woman was actually the real, live Herald of Andraste. Elias kept the gentle smile on her face and waited patiently for a reply.

“I--of course we cannot  _see_  them, Herald, they have hidden themselves to avoid being apprehended!” 

“Oh! Well. My mistake, I apologize for the misunderstanding. No wonder you’re about to march on the town. With all of them hidden in the--,” she stopped to count, “--dozen or so houses, I think you and your men will make quick work of them!”

The Commander shifted his weight, and Elias suspected, based upon the look on his face, that she was wearing on his last nerve. “I did not say that they were in the buildings, Herald. They are obviously in the trees, all around us, waiting for us to let our guard down, waiting for the right moment to strike!”

It did not escape Elias’ notice that his voice carried very well, and that when he spoke to her, he raised his volume even more to be heard over the now near-constant whispering of several hundred people. 

“You really hate elves, don’t you?” Elias asked conversationally. 

The older man did a double-take and stared her down, expression obviously hostile. “I beg your pardon?”

Elias nodded, smiling. “Yes, my apologies, I’ll speak more loudly.” She raised her voice, so that no one could possibly mistake her words or misinterpret what she said. “YOU REALLY HATE ELVES, DON’T YOU.”

The murmuring changed in a flash to shouting, as the Commander stood before her, spittle flying, finger wagging, and the rest of the assembled hosts yelling all manner of questions and profanities, at her and each other.

The Herald of Andraste held up her arms, with every bit of drama she’d learned from years in the theater, and silence reigned through the three armies. 

“I’d like an answer to that question, please,” Elias said, as if she was only speaking to the Commander. 

“I deny and  _deeply resent_  the implication--”

“I have implied nothing,” Elias said flatly, abandoning friendly pretense. “Though your actions certainly speak for themselves.” Turning her back on the man, she addressed the rag-tag army of locals, who were watching her with rapt attention.

“Where are the Dalish elves, Commander? You say they have descended upon this town, to take advantage of her people during a time of war. But I ask you again, where are they? If they are hiding in the trees, as you claim, why don’t they come out and attack? What better time than now? And what better target than myself?” 

Elias’ voice was clear as a bell, and she turned herself round and round on the spot, circling. The small woman stretched out her arms, and bared her neck.

“If there are any Dalish elves out there, I’m standing right here! I’m unarmed, undefended! Your archers should have no trouble!” She shouted, and then waited into the silence.

No arrows came, though if Elias had been listening, she would have heard the groan of disbelief from at least one of her companions.

Elias kept her dramatic pose for perhaps two seconds longer than was necessary, then turned around to address the locals again. “Good people of the Crossroads, I put to you for your consideration: there IS no Dalish clan here, and there never was! This man--”

She gestured with one finger toward the Commander, who stood in his gleaming mail in the afternoon sun.

“--has let a combination of hearsay, stress, and prejudice cloud his judgment! He has marched here, without the knowledge or consent of Arl Teagan--”

“Watch your mouth, mage,” the older man warned. “You are not privy to my orders.”

Elias scoffed. “No, I’m not. But I am privy to common knowledge, and it is common knowledge that Arl Teagan is in Denerim, yes? Well, if you could please explain to your people how it’s possible--without the ravens , and the travel time to Denerim being at least six days--that you could possibly have any order from Arl Teagan whatsoever?”

The man’s face turned at least three shades darker at her words. Elias was also pleased to note that the whispering had returned, as those assembled discussed what she said.

“And who shot the ravens down?” the Commander said finally. “If there are no Dalish elves here, they just all did themselves in, did they?” He chuckled at his own joke.

Elias smiled. “I never said there were no Dalish elves here, Commander. Just that there was no clan, waiting to take over this fine town. There is one Dalish elf here, and her name is Shadow Lavellan, and she’s with the Inquisition.”

The Commander gestured to Elias in triumph, as if she had finally proved his point, but the young woman was not finished.

“And what has she been doing, since she arrived?” Elias was addressing the people again. This part was a gamble, and she knew it. 

But she also knew Shadow. She also knew her friend, and there was no way that Shadow Lavellan had seen the suffering of these people for a full week, and done nothing.

“What has she done, since she arrived?” Elias repeated “Has anyone here seen her, since this mess began? If her deeds are in question, then let’s examine them! Eyewitness accounts only! Who here has seen the Dalish elf with their own eyes? What was she doing?”

No one stepped forward. No one said anything. Elias took a calming breath and allowed the seconds to stretch on.

Finally, a small human woman with silver in her hair tentatively stepped forward, face unsure. “I saw the elf. Three days ago now, it was.”

Elias nodded, listening. “And when you saw her, what was she doing?”

The woman considered. “Well, at the time I--she was skinning an animal. Foul mouth on her, and didn’t look like she had ever skinned an animal before, half an inch from being sick, but she was skinning it all the same. She’d brought in four rams that night, for the meat, she said. We ate that night because of her.”

The Commander turned to the woman with a look of deep dislike. “And how do you know the elf who helped you was Dalish? Perhaps the elf you remember was simply a refugee, passing through like so many--”

Elias snorted. “First we are surrounded by Dalish elves, about to be ambushed at any moment, and now he insists that the very elf in question is perhaps, not Dalish at all! Which is it, Commander?” 

She ignored him and turned her attention back to the woman who had spoken up, giving her the warmest smile she could. The woman beamed back. 

“Ma’am, can I ask your name?” Elias asked kindly, the same smile still on her face. 

The older woman stopped, taken aback. “Gwynneth, your Grace.”

“Gwynneth,” Elias repeated, face only freezing for a split second at being called “your grace” in front of hundreds of people. “Thank you, very much, for speaking up. Would you please let everyone know what it was about this elf that lead you to believe she was Dalish?”

Gwynneth hesitated, as if the Herald was asking her a trick question. “Well she had . . . markings on her face, your grace. Tattoos. The color of dried blood.”

Elias nodded, as if this was the exact response she had been waiting for. Though the woman’s description left a lot to be desired. “Thank you, Gwynneth, very much. I appreciate your honesty.”

“Is there anyone else who has seen the Dalish elf that our commander is so fearful of?” the Herald asked, voice again carrying. “Anyone who has spoken to her?”

Four voices simultaneously spoke up, vying to be heard over one another. Elias did her best to hide her grin. This is exactly what she was hoping for, and expecting, really, but you never could predict crowds.

One man in dirty leathers spoke of a “foul-mouthed elf” who kept him and his husband warm when she grumpily recovered a cache of blankets and handed them out for free. A young girl no more than sixteen attested that Shadow had healed her younger brother of a bad concussion that most certainly would have caused permanent brain damage. 

As Elias stood and listened, more and more people came forward and admitted, some with a scowl and obviously against their better judgment, that the only Dalish elf for miles had spent the last week healing their wounds and feeding their bellies. After the tenth such story, in which a grumpy elven woman with “markings on her face” awoke in the middle of the night to re-stoke the fires, ensuring no one froze to death before morning, Elias raised her hands for silence yet again.

“Commander,” Elias said with finality, and her tone was as friendly as if they were long lost acquaintances from childhood. “I think, based upon this testimony, that there has been a grave misunderstanding here. Brought about, in no small part I’m sure, by the pressures of command during a very trying time.” 

The Commander scowled at her, his face mutinous, but he did not interrupt, nor argue with her words. Elias continued.

“As there’s no Dalish clan, and the only Dalish elf here is with the Inquisition, I think this was all just a big misunderstanding! I guess the only thing left to do is just to get back to work,” she said with a shrug and a sheepish grin. “I’ve closed all the rifts around here, and killed the demons, so the roads should be marginally more safe, but there’s still plenty to do. The Inquisition will stay here and help tend to the refugees, help feed everyone, that sort of thing, until the situation with the war is--”

The Commander scoffed. “The Inquisition will stay here, will they?”

“Yes,” Elias said emphatically. Her blues eyes stared into the Commander’s face, and fury was etched into her features. “We will stay here, as long as we are welcome, as long as we are _needed_ , treating injuries and building homes and finding food and  _whatever else needs doing_. People’s lives may be trivial to you, but they are not trivial to me. And I, myself, will stay here until I’m sure that these people are going to be alright.”

Had Elias known at the time that this would later be taken as an open invitation for people to visit her, day and night, for the next three days, she might have chosen her words more carefully, or been a little bit less clear in her meaning. 

But then again, maybe not.

The Herald addressed the crowd again for, what she hoped, would be the last time in a long while. “Please give me a few moments to confer with my colleagues, and then I’d be happy to hear any concerns personally.”

Moving forward several paces, she stopped for a moment next to the Commander and leaned in so only he would hear her.

“I want your troops out of here, or even better, doing their jobs, and helping defend these people,” Elias said conversationally, but her eyes were like steel. “And if you’re incapable of helping, I want you to leave. I don’t care where you go, but you can take your thinly veiled racism elsewhere. At some point, I’m going to have to go to Redcliffe--the mages can’t hold it indefinitely, even with Grand Enchanter Fiona leading them. Eventually the Inquisition will be called to intervene, and when we do, you had better  _hope_  that enough time has gone by that I don’t remember you, or this incident, because I would like nothing better than to take this entire debacle straight to Arl Teagan and Queen Anora. I’m sure they’ll be  _fascinated_  to hear how in a time of crisis, one of their trusted commanders used his influence to act like a bloody  _Orlesian_  hunting elves, rather than helping refugees. This is your only warning. If you and your men are still here in an hour with your banners unfurled instead of helping these people, I will  _ruin_  you, and that’s a promise.” She smiled brightly, the very picture of friendliness, and left.

Step by step, Elias forced her body to move forward, through the crowd, which she was relieved to see was parting for her as she walked, soldiers and commoners alike moving aside so she could pass. No one moved to grab her, or called for her arrest. No one assumed a marching or battle formation. 

 _Christ, please let that be the end of it_.

It took all her willpower not to glance behind her to see if people were beginning to disperse. Her fury had deserted her as soon as she had told Ser Racist to fuck himself, and Elias felt her legs shake with every squelch of her muddy boots.

She pushed each thought out of her head as it came with enormous effort, focusing instead on remembering which tiny ramshackle building Shadow had claimed for her own more than a week ago. Elias’ sense of direction was poor at the best of times, and she did not think it would look particularly dignified to go knocking on doors.

Thankfully, either desperation or luck was in her favor; after a few tense moments, Elias recognized the hut that Shadow had been staying in by watching the flies and other insects drift toward it and then veer sharply away, as if propelled by an unseen force.

Not bothering to knock, Elias opened the door and entered, quickly shutting it behind her and sitting with her back to the wall.

Shadow stood on the other side of the room, encased in a magical shield, startled expression giving way to bewilderment as she stared at her friend for several moments in total silence.

“There are THREE ARMIES out there,” she finally said, by way of a greeting.

Elias grimaced. “Well, hopefully not anymore.”

“What do you mean, ‘hopefully not anymore’? Are they _dead?_ Did you  _kill them_? How did you even get in here?”

“I walked,” Elias said, eyes closed, feet folded neatly beneath her. "And I didn't kill anyone. I think."

“You walked? Through hundreds of soldiers? By yourself? And where is your staff?”

Elias eyes shot open.

“WHY IS EVERYONE SO OBSESSED WITH MY STAFF?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References made in this chapter:
> 
> Jesus Christ: a common religious figure in the Western world.
> 
> Old As Balls: Very old. 
> 
> As a final note, Elias only vaguely remembers how the political system of Ferelden works, and is doing what she always does--flying by the seat of her pants.


End file.
